


Three Wheels: A Year For Secrets

by Requiem17



Series: Three Wheels [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Merlin, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Magic Revealed, Trilogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiem17/pseuds/Requiem17
Summary: After Arthur and Merlin defeat Morgana's latest takeover attempt, things quiet down in Camelot…on the surface at least. What happened in the three 'peaceful' years after season four? Had the Golden Age really been a pipe dream? Well, with everything from a rocky alliance with the Druids to a missing dragon, Merlin's going to find out. [Canon Divergence, Post S4, Eventual Reveal]





	1. Half-Penny Hero

**Author's Note:**

> _I enjoyed Merlin thoroughly, but the fifth season broke my heart. The reveal (in the last episode!) was beautiful and sad, but it left me wishing for what I always wanted. Magic free in Camelot, while Arthur was still alive to see it and fully able to accept Merlin. Maybe that's a spoiler for where this story is going. Except, it's not much of a spoiler because there is so much story to tell._
> 
>  
> 
> _Usually a story like this is done with big battles or evil magic-users storming the castle, but neither of those things will happen here. Remember, this is the three years in between. It's a story of behind-the-scenes, and days in the life of Camelot. There will be a few tweaks from the original storyline—I need it for the reveal—but the characters will grow to who they were meant to be. There will be plenty of politics and jokes and friendship and, of course, magic._
> 
> _Welcome back to Camelot._

#####  _

Ostara (March 20)

_

The sun shone through his threadbare blankets, and Merlin tried to ignore the light and Gaius' intentionally loud sighing as he made his way up the rickety stairs to Merlin's small room. He did feel a swirling sense of guilt…or was that his stomach? Ugh. Too much mead.

There was the sound of the door banging open, the creak of another loose floorboard, and the blanket was tugged from his face. Merlin immediately swung an arm over his eyes and grimaced. "How much of this morning are you planning on wasting?"

"No wastefulness here. I'm very busy hating Gwaine and sleeping."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Did you forget you gathered ingredients for this?" He waved a vial under Merlin's nostrils, which wrinkled.

"Is that a leech?"

"It's the nausea potion."

Merlin grasped it with eyes still closed and poured it down his throat. He could specifically remember the last time he'd put himself in this situation, and he'd promised to prevent it at all costs for the rest of his life. Alas, he'd failed.

"Feeling better yet, or do I need to get myself a new apprentice?"

"I'm up," Merlin retorted as he gagged around the taste in his mouth. He swept the blanket fully off his body and folded himself carefully into a sitting position. "Where's my tunic?"

"Really, my boy, you call this a tunic?" Gaius nudged the purple pile of rags on the ground. After last night's festivities it was in dire need of a wash, though the stains and smudges told quite the story. "You are very late for Arthur might I add."

"Arthur gave me the morning off. He did only marry Gwen yesterday."

"More reason for you not to waste it. This opportunity is never going to come again." Gaius stood and tottered back to the door. "I could use some turnips."

Merlin's blue tunic lay folded on the wooden stool at his bedside, and he yanked it over his head. "I'll run to the market," he conceded. Though the thought of more turnip stew put a fire under him, and he jumped quickly into the rest of his clothes after Gaius exited. He'd have to hurry for there to be any worthy grain left, and he'd still have to stop by the Hall of Records to pick up his salary.

In his rush, he hopped down the stairs on one foot, stuffing the other into his boot as he went.

"Anything you need besides turnips?"

"Better pick up some Feverfew as well if you're going to make these nights with Gwaine a habit," Gaius smirked.

The rest of Camelot's castle slipped along like molasses, all nobles and many of the servants still recovering from last night's new year's feast. They had much to celebrate this Ostara: the completed rebuild after reconquering Camelot from Morgana and Helios, the second year of King Arthur, and of course, Gwen's return and crowning. Merlin walked the nearly empty halls feeling a bit proud, and truly happy for Arthur and Camelot.

His feet took him to Arthur's—well, Arthur and Gwen's—chambers. He knocked and shouted something silly about a termite infestation and then waited half a beat for Arthur's shout of " _Merlin!_ Do you have the memory of a _dayfly_?"

Merlin grinned and loped away, cutting through the kitchens to grab some of yesterday's bread from Audrey on his way to the library.

The Hall of Records, where the paperwork involved with the castle's finances were kept, resided alongside the library. So, Merlin passed Geoffrey of Monmouth with a wave as he ducked through bookshelves to get to it.

"Good morning, George!" He boomed as he walked in, enjoying the way the other man's eyebrows drew to a pinch.

George sat at a squat desk, to his left perched a lockbox filled with coins, and at his back was the bookshelf that held the scrolls for every worker in the castle.

"Name," George replied haughtily.

"You don't remember me, George? I thought we bonded over your cutlery jokes."

George sorted silently through other servant's names until he found the scroll with Merlin's history. He dashed off a few marks then looked up. "You cannot break the rules just because you are the king's manservant."

 _Oh, the irony._ "Merlin of Ealdor."

George's face crimped in the way Merlin now knew meant George was feeling victorious, and the man dropped three pennies into Merlin's hand. "I'll see you on Beltane."

"I look forward to it," Merlin said with an innocent smile to which George only scowled at.

Merlin swept from the room amusing himself by seeing how high he could flick a penny using his thumb, and running minor calculations in his mind. The market would already be in full swing by this time, and he hoped to still see worthy seeds and vegetables available for sale.

As he left the white walls of the citadel, he passed a bleary-eyed Leon who gave him a half-hearted nod of greeting.

Merlin clapped him on the shoulder. "Gaius has outdone himself with this morning's hangover cure. Though I'm certain I noticed a leech missing from the tank."

Leon shuddered and waved him away while Merlin grinned.

He strode through the wide streets of the noble's Upper Town and into the winding, grimier paths of the lower. The stocks stood at the peak of the market's main street, really taking advantage of the unsold wares of the week. Luckily, no luckless fool had garnered its punishment, and Merlin could pass his old haunt without grimacing.

While he continually hoped Gaius' turnip craving would pass, the physician's quips on nutrition and this all-important vegetable meant that Merlin had better buy extra. Between Elizabeth and Henry-the-Hermit, Merlin was able to gather a handful of new seeds and year-old plants ready for flowering. If he didn't get too distracted with destiny this year, then his three farthings may have just bought him a continuous cycle of turnips. Joy.

Another halfpence got him a pound of barley, and he nearly made it away before a bolt of cloth caught his eye. It was a sweet sky-blue that he knew his mother loved, and he sighed as thoughts of her bubbled to the front of his mind.

Ever since Tristan had mentioned King Lot's hobby of hanging his enemy's heads on the walls of his keep, Merlin had wanted to make sure his mother was well. He had mentioned to Arthur that he wanted to at least be in Ealdor when Lot's men came through for tariffs, but that had been before the wedding and he doubted Arthur remembered. Besides, the larger problem was how to leave Arthur alone for a week without the prat putting on a poisoned necklace or turning into a donkey.

"How much for a yard?"

The woman eyed him so he gestured towards the blue fabric. "A pence."

He expected as much, and while he had a bit of money stored in his chambers, he couldn't help the wince that crossed his face. The woman caught his look and unrolled the rougher serf's cloth that he'd grown up wearing.

"A farthing."

Merlin shook his head. "It's a gift for my mother." He smiled brightly, "would you take a half-pence?"

In the end he traded another three farthings, and a future bottle of blackcurrants once his shrub produced fruit in the summer, for a generous yard of the blue cloth and a handful of scrap fabric that would make good thread.

He carried his spoils back to Gaius' chambers and didn't trip even once. However, because he was fate's plaything, as he swung into the room he collided with a green-faced Leon and turnips rolled everywhere.

"I regret this already," Leon muttered with a sour twist of his lips.

"You'll feel much better once you get over the bad breath," Merlin replied conspiringly.

Leon turned back to the physician and thanked him for his help.

"Of course, Sir Leon," Gaius responded as the door closed behind the Captain of the Guard. He waited for the good knight's footsteps to fade down the corridor, then turned and smacked Merlin in the head. "Boiled leeches?"

Merlin grinned sheepishly and shuffled around on the floor looking servile. It didn't fool Gaius, but the handful of turnips won him over. " _So_ …" he began suddenly, "what do you know about scrying?"

Gaius' eyebrow twitched upward. "What brought this about?"

"Since Arthur and Gwen—" Gaius' eyebrow inched even higher, " _Since Arthur_ _and Gwen_ will be staying in Camelot while I visit Ealdor," he said emphatically, "I need a way to keep watch over them."

"Are you certain spying on them at sudden moments is how you want to monitor their safety?" Gaius' voice dripped with skepticism.

Merlin grimaced, "Probably not. But what other choice do I have?"

Gaius put a hand on his back and lowered himself into a stool with a sigh. "Then let's discuss the theory behind scrying. Do you understand the Law of Contagion?" Merlin's quirked head bade him continue. "It explains how a magical link can be formed between two people or objects once they have been in contact." Gaius paused and frowned at him. "Didn't you just tell me you used a link like this to freeze Morgana's magic?"

"I used a binding spell and a poppet."

"That sounds very near a curse."

Merlin reached into his pocket and pulled his remaining coins into his hands so he could avoid looking at Gaius. "It was a curse."

It was to Gaius' credit that he did not react in any way. Instead he continued slowly, "Scrying is a similar art, though all accounts I've heard are for speaking with the dead." Gaius startled as a potion began bubbling, but turned back to the conversation. "Did you use Morgana's hair to enact the curse?"

Merlin rolled the silver and copper through his fingers. "I didn't use anything of hers."

He reached across the table and grasped Merlin's wrist. "The way you bend these rules continues to shock me, Merlin. To have bound a sorceress as strong as Morgana with a contagion through straw is stunning. If anyone could bind a living spirit to an object it would be you."

While the words had been meant to soothe, Merlin instead stood in agitation. "Just because I can do it, doesn't mean I should." He clenched his fist. "How could I even think of cursing Arthur?"

A tense silence swallowed the room as he fumed at himself. Gaius waited warily for Merlin's shoulders to unwind as the young man calmed before placing a careful hand upon him. "Merlin, you would never hurt Arthur. Peace in Albion is both of your destinies."

Merlin froze and Gaius removed his hand. He needn't have worried, though, because moments later Merlin whirled around with a huge grin upon his face. "Yes, because we are two sides of the same coin! Brilliant, Gaius!"

"What are you on about now, Merlin?"

Merlin bound from the room, heading to his chambers. "Coins!" He dove under the bed to pry at the loose floorboard.

 _This boy is exhausting._ Gaius huffed. He ambled over to the bubbling potion and poured it into a larger pitcher, then held it to the light to check its color. He heard the rustling of pages and the mumble of magic.

He nearly dropped the pitcher on his own face as Merlin barreled back out and flung a halfpenny at him. "Were you being literal?"

"It's a sigil," Merlin beamed and held a similar coin in his own hand. "I made two, and I bound them together." He pressed a finger to the coin, and Gaius felt his own halfpenny warm. "Since they're sigils, I can charge them!"

Merlin looked so pleased that Gaius didn't have the heart to bring him down with his own confusion. "Very good, my boy."

"You have to help me test them."

"And how do we—"

"We put Arthur in danger," Gaius immediately turned away with a _No!_ "Just a little bit of danger!" He reached over and grabbed the halfpence from Gaius. "This one is a maintenance sigil, and this one here is a shield sigil. I'll be able to tell if Arthur gets hurt. I'll be able to _protect_ him. Well slightly…I haven't completely worked out all the kinks…" Merlin trailed off, but beamed again. "I just need to test it once before I go."

"Absolutely not," Gaius said severely. "I don't condone this reckless behavior."

Merlin waved him off with a laugh and hopped to the door. "Well then, I'm on a mission for destiny. I'll be taking the rest of the day off."

Gaius shook his head in exasperation and again raised the pitcher to the light. This time he swirled slightly to bring air into the mixture and felt blindly along his desk for the vial of powdered sage. Merlin nearly gave him a heart attack when he sprung back in.

"And don't tell anyone I'm at the tavern!"

 

* * *

 

"Arthur you _must_ let me go," Guinevere giggled lightly. "I don't believe I've been in bed this long since I was a child."

"If you insist, my queen." Arthur fell back onto the bed with a smile as he watched his _wife_ slip a sheet around her body and head for her folding screen. _So modest—too bad,_ he grinned to himself. "If the nobles last night are anything to go by, I'm not going to have you to myself for quite some time, so forgive me for dallying."

"Oh, Arthur," she said in her melodic voice, "they were following custom. I expect they want to gain my favor."

"Or they were entranced by how beautiful you are."

She poked her head around the screen and gave him a reprimanding look. "If you're planning on taking up poetry, you could use a spot of coaching."

He laughed and rolled to his side, content to stay in bed as long as he was able. "In all seriousness, we will need to introduce you to our allies. Perhaps we shall call on Lord Godwyn, then make our way around Camelot's borders."

"Would it be wise to be away from home for so long?" She peeked at him while dressed in her chemise and he smiled at her again.

"You will be a wonderful queen, Guinevere."

Knocking at the door pulled both of their attention, and Merlin's voice called to them. "Are you decent?"

Arthur's head fell back into the pillows as he groaned and Gwen's laugh tinkled from behind the screen.

"You're not? Don't you both have a kingdom to rule? People to put in the stocks and all that?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Gwen?"

"You can come in, Merlin."

The manservant opened the door with a flourish, his blue eyes twinkling and his raven hair ruffled. As he swept into the room the door shut with a bang, and he dropped the platter of cheese and bread onto the serving table with another clang. He placed the goblet from his other hand on Arthur's desk while kicking yesterday's clothes into a neater pile, and then pushed open the curtains. _The man was a storm,_ Arthur thought.

Merlin turned to Arthur with a raised brow. "I see you've forgotten how to dress without my help."

Gwen giggled again and appeared from behind the screen wearing a simple gown of purple. While it would have been highly inappropriate in the Great Hall, around her friend, and formerly fellow servant, it was more than enough clothing. "Thank you for the food, Merlin. You didn't have to do that for us."

"It's too early in your marriage to deal with a cranky Arthur."

"If the both of you are going to girl talk, then you can leave."

Merlin ignored Arthur's jibe as he was too intently watching Guinevere lift the goblet from the table and raise it to her lips. Just as it touched her mouth he cleared his throat and snatched the cup from her hands.

Gwen looked at him questioningly as he moved to the window and poured the goblet's contents out of it. "It was for Arthur," he explained.

She responded by glancing furtively at the back of his neck, and he turned to her with an innocent smile. "Nothing like that Gwen, just a prank." He looked slyly at the king still under the covers. "I knew he wouldn't be able to chase me."

Gwen swatted at his arm and he laughed, but then held it out to her. "Can I escort you to the kitchens for a better drink?"

She looked softly at her husband and asked, "Will you be alright on your own, Arthur?" A twinkle grew in her eye and he realized she was teasing him.

He threw a pillow at them both. "You'd think you both get paid for harassing me."

"Only I do now," Merlin said cheekily. "Nice thinking marrying Gwen though; I don't think the coffers could have afforded us both much longer."

"Tell me Merlin, are any of the prison cells available?"

"No, your highness, they're booked until Yule."

By this time Gwen had finished slipping an embroidered tunic over her shoulders, its intricate designs falling elegantly to her waistline. She placed her hand on Merlin's elbow just as the man swung Arthur's scabbard onto his back.

"Where are you going with my sword?"

"To do servantly things," Merlin replied as the door closed behind them.

Arthur blinked at the disappearing footsteps, and then at the growing silence in his chambers. _Well, this is new_.

 

* * *

Gwen and Merlin walked down the stone corridor arm-in-arm. They could barely make it five feet without another servant or noble giving their new queen a small bow, and Gwen was much too nice to not acknowledge them. After Sir Geraint nearly slobbered all over Gwen's hand, Merlin decided to intervene.

He nudged her with his shoulder and said loudly, "So, my lady," and then he grinned, "is Arthur as good with a sword as he thinks he is?"

"Merlin!" Gwen looked about them aghast, and then hid her smile behind her hand as she tried to look sternly at him. "I haven't heard that kind of talk since I was a serving girl."

"Good reason to keep me around then," he replied cheekily as he steered them through the bottom of the stairwell.

"Well, it certainly is a _long_ story," Gwen continued, not one to back down around Merlin. He nearly doubled over in laughter at her secretive smirk. "Though I don't think I could explain it properly without having to reference a few of your mother's stories."

Merlin's disgusted expression spoke for itself.

Gwen giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I do miss just gossiping with the other girls between chores. I wonder how they're all doing."

"Ask them," Merlin said nonchalantly.

"I'm sure it would be different." She sighed and Merlin studied her out of the corner of his eye. "It's already all so different."

"Gwen," His blue eyes tore from her to stare unfocusedly down the hallway, and he ran a hand through his hair as he mulled over his words. "People are going to expect a lot from you. They'll praise you and question you and throw titles at you. Despite all of that, you're still Gwen, and you always will be." He smiled his disarming grin at her, "You were my first friend when I came to Camelot. You are one of my best friends now. That will never change."

She took a moment to think over what he'd said, but the small smile forming on her face meant he'd done his job. "You really can be so wise, Merlin. When is Arthur going to smarten up and make you an official advisor?"

"When he gets tired of watching my rear end while I fetch water."

Gwen admonished him again and a flush rose to her cheeks as she laughed. At that moment the wooden door for the kitchens burst open and Elyan appeared carrying a jug and a handful of cups.

He greeted them both before Gwen snatched a cup from his hand. He filled it for her with a fond smile, then pulled her into a one-armed embrace and kissed her on the forehead. "Are you hungry, sister?"

As she shook her head, Elyan glanced to Merlin.

"Can I steal the queen as I make some rounds to the on-duty knights?"

"Wonderful idea, Elyan," Gwen beamed.

Merlin waved them off and they both left for the battlements. He hoisted Excalibur higher onto his back and thought on what area of the castle he could get a quiet moment with Arthur's scabbard.

Eventually he decided the place he could come up with the quickest excuse was the armory, and he entered the familiar room as Sir Cador was hanging his halberd. He turned quickly at Merlin's entrance, but upon recognizing him didn't acknowledge the servant.

That was well enough for Merlin, because he needed a bit of space to break the law. He went to sit on a bench so his back was to the door and removed Excalibur from its sheath. He grabbed a whetstone and ran it lightly along the blade until Sir Cador left, then set both aside. He took the sheath and held it before him.

Arthur rarely carried a shield, so the shield of the sword would be best able to carry his spell. Though now he had to puzzle out how he was going to actually do that.

He took the halfpence from his pocket and placed it into a circlet within the embroidery. It didn't quite fit, but he shoved the filigree with his magic until he could wedge in the coin. He could just imagine the verbal lashing he would get when Arthur discovered it.

He shrugged. It wouldn't be worse than anything before. In fact, it would probably be amusing. Though if Arthur's track record were to be referenced, the oblivious king would never find out.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder, looking supremely suspicious if anyone had cared to watch him. He was alone though, so he slipped the other coin into his hand and his eyes flared gold. He felt his magic slip from the twin halfpence into the sheath, and wobble delicately around the metal's form.

With another flash of gold he shoved, and his magic expanded explosively around his body and—by accident—the bench he sat on. Small bonus, he now knew there was a leg very near to rotting through.

He retracted until the magic held loosely around his body. He'd used similar magic after being struck by the mace last year. It wasn't anything near a healing spell, but it had kept most of the blood within his body, and thus kept him conscious enough to create that last rockslide.

He thought of testing it with a knick on his finger, but that sounded too morbid. Instead he felt for the scab on his knee, and for the healing abrasions on his hip from when he'd stumbled the night before.

Merlin looked to the sword by his side then rapidly shook his head. As the magic released, he was careful to stuff it back into the sheath's sigil. It made the halfpence warm in his left hand, and all seemed in order. He put the paired coin in his pocket and sighed deeply while he leaned his head back onto the coat of arms behind him.

Then he gave in and shoved his hand for the sword at his side. Magic jolted from the sigil, completely out of his control. The coin in his pocket jumped to cold and he felt the shield crackle around his body as the sword gouged him.

He snatched his hand back quickly and held it loosely, cursing himself. Well, now he knew a few things. One, still an idiot. Two, the magic in the sigil was no longer his. It would protect anyone holding the sheath.

That didn't sound as safe as he'd like, but this was the best plan he could come up with on short notice. If he got a chance he'd ask Kilgharrah later, though he doubted the dragon would be very helpful on something like this.

Someone stumbled into the armory then changed direction to walk directly for him. Eventually he felt that someone hovering over him, and he glanced up to see Gwaine's sleep-deprived eyes peering at him blearily.

Percival followed behind, and walked around the bench to look at the injury Merlin was cradling. Merlin mumbled an incomprehensible excuse before trying to change the subject. "What brings you two to the room of stink?"

"We're avoiding Elyan. He dumped half a pitcher of water on me for skipping patrol," Gwaine said with a scowl.

Percival reached one arm to his new tunic and ripped his entire sleeve off. He held it out to Merlin who smiled abashedly.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Percy, do you own _anything_ with sleeves?"

The large man shrugged and stood to his feet as Merlin wrapped the large bundle of fabric around his hand. With Gaius' help he was sure it could fully heal in a day or two.

Merlin tilted his head at his friend, "You're in a bad mood."

Gwaine grumbled again and stomped on the bench in a parody of testing its strength.

Merlin winced and said "Ah—Don't—!" just as Gwaine flopped bodily onto the frame. The wood splintered and the entire bench angled as it tried to collapse atop the knight. Merlin stood in a hurry and Percival grabbed Excalibur before it could cause anyone else harm.

Gwaine rolled to his side and put his face into the grimy stone floor. "Leave me here, I'm dead. This is the worst day ever."

Merlin began to chuckle and even Percival cracked a smile. "Come on you lazy bum. I'll take you to Gaius."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
>  
> 
> (1) I'm going with the modern pagan calendar here. Ostara is the Spring Equinox and was the beginning of the year for Celtics.  
> (2) Feverfew is an herb that helps with headaches.  
> (3) Audrey is the head chef from the show.  
> (4) Not sure if halfpence or farthings even existed in the Middle Ages. I know pennies were made of silver and existed in the 5th/6th centuries. I've modified wages/prices from the 1300s to give myself something reasonable to go off of for Camelot, but yes, Albion's entire monetary system is largely based out of my head.  
> (5) I'm sure you all remember George.  
> (6) According to legend, Arthur's sheath could protect the wearer from bleeding. I've decided Merlin is not very good at healing spells or we'd have seen him use them more often in the show. I'm also taking a page from Harry Potter and saying healing magical ailments is much harder than physical ailments. I think with some focus Merlin would speed along the healing of his hand.  
> (7) Sir Geraint and Sir Cador are both minor canon characters.


	2. Lucky Charms

 

#####  _The Kalends of April (March 21-31)_

Merlin didn't often take languid walks through the forest. Though casually trekking to Ealdor may not count as a common stroll, it was vastly different from his past few times in the Forest of Ascetir. Due to this, small, sweet things caught his senses. His sight would snare on the tiny yellow and periwinkle flowers pushing through low grass, and his nose would be lost in smells of pine and sap and earthy loam.

It was a welcome distraction, for the forest did not hold many paths, and it was slow going through the packed dirt and twisted roots of Ascetir. Most of the day had passed thusly, though his morning began with him rolling in his sleep and suddenly finding himself tumbling downhill.

The long grass on the hills between Camelot's forests and Ascetir had looked so soft and inviting the night before. They had been the perfect bed as he watched the stars wheel overhead. However, after getting a mouthful of them in the morning he'd stopped feeling so generous.

Though, the sounds and sights of the forest had calmed him and now his few selfish thoughts were of the ache in his feet from the two days of walking. His body was eager to make it to Ealdor, though Merlin did not overly concern himself with the exact direction, knowing as long as he traveled as the sun rose he couldn't get lost. If he veered too far South, he would hit the Ridge of Ascetir, and if he veered too North—

He'd hit the river.

He'd never known it's proper name, just knew it as the river some Mercian rafts came down and the river they drew water from. It was a sparkling, clear stream, and it had appeared through the tree line like a mirage.

Merlin bent at its banks, scooping some water into his mouth and then slipping his boots off to dip his feet. The water was fresh and cold, and he felt relief as it washed over his strained muscles. He knew that this would only make them contract and stiffen, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He fell onto his back while his legs dangled, closing his eyes and let the wind kiss his skin. His ears filled with the tumble of water, the chatter of animals, and faint voices on the breeze. He didn't pay much attention at first, knowing the voices came from downstream. However, as the animals began to grow silent and the tone of the voices changed to belligerence, Merlin sat up and faced his hometown.

He didn't hear the strikes, but he heard the screams that followed.

Time flickered. In a blink he was sprinting to Ealdor, his small pack gripped tightly in his right hand, and his left pushing the time freeze as far in front of him as he was able. His bubble stretched and ballooned— amorphous, pliable. When he saw the edges of Ealdor's huts his eyes flashed gold and his village was swept with his magic.

He stumbled to the nearest dwelling and leaned his back against the cool stone, working to catch his breath. Feeling the strain of the magic, he quickly reeled in the size of his freeze to the village of Ealdor, and then even more to just the town square where everyone appeared to be gathered.

He still felt a bit shaky, but with his strength now returning, he slipped into the shadow of the hut he stood near and took in the villagers and the group of knights crowded around a bent man. The man's face was turned from him as he had been struck, and he was too far away for Merlin to recognize. His memory fared no better with the orange-clad knights themselves.

Merlin exhaled slowly and then returned time.

"—not the king's duty to inform outlying serfs of minor decrees," the head knight snarled. He unclasped his cloak and let it fall in a heap at his feet. To Merlin it looked like he was standing in a pile of old leaves.

The knight made a half-turn, so all there could see his hand clasped around the hilt of his sword. "Are you certain you have nothing to offer for feorm?"

The man looked up from where he kneeled, and Merlin recognized him now, "I am certain, Lord Urien, that bandits have taken all the grain I have."

The knight— ' _Lord'_ Merlin corrected himself— sneered. "Will you use bandits as your excuse this harvest season?"

"I wouldn't have to if you lot did your jobs."

That was the straw that took the argument too far, and Merlin went skidding into the square straight for the villager Alane. He put both of his hands on the older man's shoulders and glanced rapidly over his injuries, ensuring he was all right. His own body between Alane and Lord Urien was enough to stop the sword from striking.

If Merlin had been Arthur, or, really, had been allowed to be anyone other than Merlin-the-farmboy-turned-manservant, he would have turned and made this _lord_ rue treating citizens this way. As it was, though, the best Merlin could do was play the peasant.

He remained crouched with Alane while he turned to look at Urien's irritated face. He put on the dopey serf act that he'd perfected long ago. "What's going on?"

"Insubordination, and now the village idiot," Urien muttered.

"Are you here for this spring's hearth tax?" Merlin asked glibly. "Two pence, right?"

"Three," drawled Urien.

Merlin let loose his goofiest grin and watched from the corner of his eye as Urien's white-knuckled grip on his sword loosened. "The spirits smiled on me today." He reached into his pocket and sorted through the few coins he had, and pulled them out in a fist. "Alane sent me to sell whatever we could spare. We would never want to be a burden on our new lord."

He unfurled his fingers and Urien looked down his nose at the grimy fingernails and blemished copper. He waved a knight over who plucked the money from Merlin's hand and then pulled him to standing.

Urien studied Merlin's face and spoke loudly for all to hear. "Cenred went to war for you. We are _all_ still paying the costs of it. I do not imagine you can follow the intricacies of running a kingdom… _so just follow my directives next time_. Stay on my good side, and perhaps I'll talk to our king in your favor."

The Lord looked around at the villagers to ensure his message had sunk in. Each had their head bowed in silent acquiescence. As a parting gift, he stepped toward Merlin and whispered a quiet threat. "I am the one who bestows mercy. Do not expect much from spirits in the future if you or your smart-mouthed father stand in the path of my sword again."

Urien turned away and waved for the knights to follow. More mercifully for Merlin, the lord and his men didn't see the look that came over Merlin's face immediately after. He would never have attacked— this was certainly not the time for Ealdor's second cyclone— but his mother was suddenly at his side, tugging at his arm that he only then noticed ended in a clenched fist.

"Merlin, what a surprise! It's wonderful to see you again so soon." Hunith's normally kind features had morphed into a mixture of shock and trepidation. The true happiness at seeing her son appeared to be slow coming, considering the events of the last half-hour.

"What happened here? You've got a new lord?"

"Let's speak inside, Merlin."

He let himself be led away, and didn't speak until the door to their hut closed behind him. "Mother, I wasn't about to explode."

"It never hurts to be careful," she said sternly. She paused and then wrapped him in a tight hug. "Thank you for saving him, my dear."

Merlin set his pack on a stool by the door and returned his mother's hug. "Of course. Just please explain what's going on."

She released him and led them to their wooden table where she sat grasping his hand. "Lot killed and replaced the lords of Cenred's main allies. I gather Urien is the new lord of these lands." Her lips pursed, "This morning he and his men arrived with their new tax demands. Many of us hadn't planned for more than usual, and we were scrambling to try to meet their quota. Those of us that had extra tried to help the others."

"I can't imagine there was enough coin in this town for three pence per hearth."

"They offered three pounds of grain for a pence," Hunith replied tiredly.

"That's robbery!" Merlin exclaimed, "I'll tell Arthur and the knights—"

She gave him a smack on the back of his hand, "You will not. These aren't bandits; they are Lot's nobles."

"Hardly," Merlin scoffed, then admitted through clenched teeth. "But defending you is an act of war." He shook his head in anger. "I can't believe they were going to kill Alane for a few pence!"

"I think they would have come to an understanding." Hunith sighed, "I'm sure Alane has the coin; I don't know what possessed him to lie."

Merlin stood from the table. "I'll look in on him later. I want to double check that he's alright."

The hut was small, and it only took two of his strides to reach his mother's barrel of grain. He removed the lid and sucked in a breath. His lungs felt tight in his chest.

"What will you all eat?"

"We'll be alright until we can travel down to Engerd and see what there is to trade."

"There will be nothing there either," Merlin said tensely, still staring in horror at his mother's food stores.

"Then we will go to Upwood."

Merlin replaced the lid and turned slowly, painfully, back to her. "What can I do?"

She smiled kindly at him, "You were always my lucky charm during the growing season. Perhaps you can spread some of that luck."

He swallowed thickly and nodded. "I'll think of something." He moved to his pack and unlaced the old fabric. "This is for you," he handed the blue cloth over, then quickly sorted through the bits of change he'd brought with him— Arthur's halfpence still safely wedged in his boot. He handed his mother another three pence in change. "This is for harvest season."

She smiled sadly at the coins and Merlin moved to her, wrapping her fingers tightly around the small stack.

"Please be selfish. Don't give it to someone else," he pleaded quietly.

Her soft expression told him plainly that she would give it to the first family that needed it more than her.

"Then I'll come back for Mabon."

"You cannot tear yourself apart trying to protect everyone, my dear. Arthur is a great king. Camelot is where you belong." She patted his cheek. "Don't look so forlorn. I'm not going anywhere."

 

* * *

 

The sun was touching the tops of the trees by the time Merlin made it back to the forest. He needed dogwood to reduce the swelling around Alane's nastier bruises. The time it took to walk to Ascetir and back was just bonus.

Most of the spells he could think of for fertile soil, protection from the elements, or other topical cures were only temporary. They had been simple spells he'd woven while he lived here, but they wouldn't last once he'd gone back to Camelot. He needed something permanent. Something he hadn't thought of before.

Merlin glanced around at the undergrowth. Half of his mind scoured for the white flowers of a dogwood shrub, and the other half hoped desperately for inspiration.

That inspiration smacked him solidly across the face. Though at the time, he was only irritated.

Another pinecone hit him cross the cheek and he whirled just in time to see a small creature scurry into the shadow of leaves. As he watched, another pinecone launched itself towards him and a diminutive man leapt from the leaves into a tree further away.

Merlin only shook his head and continued trudging on, though this time sparing moments looking up into the trees for the faerie. On one occasion he caught the man peering at him and he called out.

"Hello! Do you know of a nearby dogwood shrub?"

Before he'd even gotten all of the words out of his mouth, the man had disappeared. He stepped closer to the tree he'd last seen him in.

"I won't hurt you."

Merlin walked around the base of the tree, looking up at the branches. At no sign of the only help he was likely to get, Merlin sighed and made his way back to the game trail he had stood on previously. Well, he tried to at least. It had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

He twisted slowly on the spot, spying the path many yards away through a copse of trees. How had he gotten so far off track?

No matter. He moved onto the trail and continued west. It branched and he took the left fork. Shortly after he lost the trail again but picked it up further on.

In this way he wove through the Forest of Ascetir, completely unaware of how many times he'd been tricked. He was fortunate that the faerie meant him no serious harm, except for the occasional stubbed toe as tree roots shifted imperceptibly.

The light was low now, casting the forest in a yellow-orange glow. Merlin knew that unless he wanted to spend the night out here he should make his way back to Ealdor and continue the search tomorrow. He turned around to head back.

However, behind him wasn't the path he'd just spent walking. Instead a clearing filled with green grass spread before his eyes, and at the center grew a large willow tree. Even more astonishingly, behind that willow tree stepped a giant.

It was the man Merlin had spied among the leaves along the outskirts of the forest, though now trees hid in his shadow. His was an older face, with a long beard of moss and vines. His skin was pebbly and mottled like a scoop of dirt, and a whole hill of long grass and flowers grew along his hunched back.

He smiled a toothy grin. "It took you long enough, oh great Emrys."

Merlin held his hand up in greeting, still trying to work out what he'd gotten himself into. "Can I help you?"

"Aren't those my lines?" The old man said in amusement.

Merlin furrowed his brow but went back to his earlier mundane question, confused as to why this creature of the forest had went to so much trouble to answer it. "Do you know where I can find some dogwood bark?"

"You think I plot out every plant in the entire damned forest?"

"If you didn't know then why did you bring me here?"

"What I always bring people here for— a trade." The giant smiled. His teeth were made of old tree stumps. He snapped his fingers and leaves erupted from the ground before Merlin's feet. In the time it took him to study the burst of magic, the leaves had spun into thickened bark and begun to spread outward.

The magic felt different than most magic he'd come across in a long while. If he had to place it—he'd say it reminded him of the prickly, happy, hoppy magic of the goblin. It bubbled from the rapidly growing shrub, frolicking around his feet in little spheres of cherubic joy and mischief.

In a burst of color, the bush flowered into the white blooms of a dogwood shrub, and Merlin looked skeptically up at the woodland faerie.

"This I'll give you. You gave me bragging rights over the other Leshys. Not many get to say they tricked Emrys."

Merlin bent down to the bush and snapped a handful of lower branches off with a flash of his eyes.

The Leshy shuffled around, then folded himself onto his legs. His hair hung down around him and the more Merlin looked, the more the man looked like a withering tree. "Please tell me I haven't put all this effort in getting you alone, and you have nothing interesting to talk about."

He placed the branches into his pack. "I need to protect and invigorate the crops for my village this year."

"Now that's more like it," the old man grinned.

"Can you do that?"

The creature scratched its head and a flock of birds darted from his hair into the surrounding trees. "Yes, for a price."

"What do you want?" Merlin said stiffly.

"That's what I'm deciding on. What could I make you give me?"

Merlin schooled his expression and cracked open the magic within him. It ran to throb through his fingers and streamed beneath his skin. He faced the faerie seriously, prepared to fight his way out here.

"Your first born child." The old giant leaned back his head and boomed with laughter.

He heard the beating of wings as the birds fled again.

The giant leaned forward onto a massive palm and wiped tears from his eyes. "No? How about Arthur's first born?"

Merlin growled. "Never."

The Leshy's eyes glowed with amusement, and it watched Merlin's growing strength with a hint of greed. "Just a joke. That's my style." The giant shifted back and forth before smiling again. "Get me a wife."

"Someone else like you?"

"No! Aren't you supposed to know things?" He waved a hand at Merlin's fighting stance. "I need a companion. Do you have any idea how dull it gets talking to squirrels?"

Merlin's life had been full of decisions he had no time to reason out. He went with his gut on this as he had many others. "I could do that, if you give me time."

The Leshy studied him critically, and a dangerous smile grew on the giant's face. "Then I give you a year. Your village will have one wheel of the best growing season they'll ever see." He leaned forward, and his shadow enveloped the clearing. "But, renege on your word— and every grain turns to poison."

Merlin nodded with a quick jerk of his head. "We have a deal."

The giant stood to its feet, and he smiled so wide he nearly split his face in half. "So we do. Run along now, little Emrys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
> (1) The Kalends of April is actually the first of April. Time was counted up to a day though, so the day after Ostara, March 21st, would have been called 10 Kalends of April (assuming 31 days in March). I'm using the fantasy-license to say 10 Kalends of April, 9 Kalends of April, etc. to be "The Kalends of April". This is easier for me because now I can tell time without having to be exact.  
> (2) You'll remember King Lot is a true character, but I've made up Lord Urien…and Alane…and many other OCs for this story. Trying my best to stick with names of the time period. I need OCs to tell the story, but I can promise that there will never be a scene with just OCs interacting.  
> (3) In the episode with the troll-wife, they raise taxes on the citizens. So I know taxes are out there, and people are expected to have coin, at least in Camelot.  
> (4) Mabon is a festival near harvest time.  
> (5) The Leshy is a Russian faerie, taken by some to be evil, and others to be mischievous. In the center of the forest he is a giant, shrinking the further from the center he gets. He seems to be made of the plants around him. Leshy's were known to make pacts with farmers.
> 
> **Author's Note:**
> 
> On Essetir. We know that Lot took over Essetir after Cenred, and we know Tristan hinted at him being a bad guy, but because of the show ending in the 5th series we never actually meet Lot.
> 
>  **Next time:** A Roll in the Hay. Merlin finds out why Alane risked his life over three pence.


	3. A Roll in the Hay

**_The Kalends of April (March 21-31)_ **

Travel up and down the Eastern Tower commonly involved either of two stairwells. The first was the servant's stairwell that Merlin frequented as he darted between jobs. Gaius was more familiar with the second. This was the noble's passage, and it had wide stone steps easier for an older man to traverse, and alternating windows and Pendragon pennants as decoration.

Gaius stopped on the landing for the second floor to catch his breath. Fresh spring air blew through the small pointed window, and he breathed deeply as he rested the joints in his knees.

Heavy footfalls sounded from below him, and Gaius turned to greet whoever would soon pass him. The man's large blond head came into view first, followed by a hulking body in a sleeveless tunic.

"Ah, Sir Percival," Gaius said respectfully, with a small nod of his head.

"Gaius," Percival responded with a wide smile. "Are you headed to Sir Brennis'?"

"I am, then a few other usual patients," Gaius responded.

"May I join you?"

Gaius nodded, albeit wondering why that was necessary. He handed the large knight his pack of potions, salves, and spare herbs and braced himself along the wall as they continued down the stairwell. "How is the king?"

Percival smiled a secret grin, and looked side-long at Gaius. "His chainmail is on backwards."

A bark of laughter escaped the physician, and he quickly covered his mouth, embarrassed at having laughed at the king. "Merlin will be pleased to hear that. He's faring well otherwise?"

"All's well," Percival replied. "Tearing him away from the queen is getting troublesome."

"And how is she doing?"

"She seems in high spirits," Percival continued, throwing a questioning glance Gaius' way.

"I promised Merlin I'd keep an eye on them," Gaius replied in way of explanation. "It is within my job description anyways."

Percival outwardly found that amusing, but Gaius caught the hint of understanding flash through the large man's eyes as they exited the citadel.

The Upper Town was mostly made up of the noble's manors, and many servants were darting about as they made up for the week's lethargy. The higher nobles, those that came from more prominent families, lived in estates nearest to the castle, providing the best views and the shortest distance to safety. A few of the knights came from these families, but most lived in the smaller homes further away if they chose not to stay in barracks within the castle.

Fortunately for Gaius' joints, Sir Brennis came from the eminent Pelham family, and lived in one of the nearest homes to the castle. As they approached the manor, a young boy came scampering out with a large basket of linens, and when he saw Sir Percival nearly stumbled over himself to a complete stop and looked up at him with wide astonished eyes.

Percival leaned down to smile at the young boy. He was a skinny thing with a mop of brown hair, wearing an obviously hand-me-down tunic, and he continued looking at Percival in obvious awe. "I see you carrying that big basket on your own. You are very strong for your age."

The boy grinned, showing off his three missing teeth. "Maybe I'll be a Knight of the Round Table too," he said happily. "Sire," he added quickly, bowing his head in a spasm that nearly spilled the linens all over the cobblestones.

"Perhaps you will," Percival said, a warm expression on his face. He stood and turned back to Gaius as the young boy ran off in delight. He held out a hand to help Gaius over a rounded stone, and Gaius took the chivalric offer despite not truly needing it. He wasn't _that_ old just yet—he still had many years ahead of him.

The Pelham gardener had decorated the entrance with freshly planted yellow flowers to offset the heavy red curtains hanging from all the front-facing windows, all of which were emblazoned with the Pelham's crest of the bow and arrow.

Percival knocked on the front door, and an older man opened it before he bowed to both the knight and Gaius in turn. "If you will wait in the anteroom, I will go to fetch Sir Brennis."

The two men moved into the smaller side room though chose to remain standing. Gaius had seen the plush furniture and historic tapestry adorning the wall many times, and ignored them now in favor of retrieving his bag from Percival to pull the fresh splint and salves he would need.

"Gauis!" Sir Brennis' voice boomed through the room before he swept in. He was a young knight, and had been a friend of Arthur's before Merlin came around. In the years after, Brennis had grown into a fit and handsome noble and was fully aware, and maybe a tad too proud, of all three of those traits. His voice lowered into disdain when he saw Percival. "I see you've brought company."

"I called to see how you were faring, Sir Brennis." Percival had no outright emotion to color his voice, and he seemed perfectly respectful.

The same could not be said for Sir Brennis, who replied haughtily and with obvious dislike written across his features. "I am getting along nicely, Sir Percival. No need for more house calls."

Percival nodded at Gaius and strode past Sir Brennis who made no move to allow Percival more space to pass through the doorway. "I look forward to seeing you on the training grounds shortly, then."

"Quite so."

Percival squeezed past, and from the entrance room turned back to Gaius with a smirk and a wink, then disappeared out of the front door.

Gaius' raised eyebrow belied his continued confusion on the encounter, though he noted the hostility, or perhaps rivalry, between the two men and held his tongue on the matter.

 

* * *

 

Merlin woke with the sun, and after his usual routine, he grabbed the stripped branches of dogwood he'd gathered yesterday. The night before he'd hung them over the coals to quick dry them, and this morning he quickly crushed them to powder with a silent burst of magic.

He sighed. It felt nice to not have to worry as much about being caught, though technically it was no less dangerous here than anywhere else in Albion.

He added water until he'd created a paste, and then kissed his mother quickly on the cheek as he left for Alane's hut. It was a smaller village, but the plots of land spread wide behind the ramshackle houses, making villagers much harder to find during growing seasons.

A few of the folk waved to him, having seen his fairly dramatic arrival yesterday, and Merlin waved back jovially before arriving at Alane's. He hardly knocked on the door before the elder man opened it.

Alane looked caught between wanting to apologize and wanting to save his pride, so Merlin spoke up first. "I'm an apprentice to the Court Physician. May I check your injuries?"

Alane nodded and opened the door wider to admit him in. Despite the village being as small as it was, he hadn't been in Alane's hut even as a child. It was sparsely decorated, with a coal pit in the corner and a table for two in the center. A small sack of seeds sat upon the table, and it appeared Alane had been in the middle of counting out what remained of his stores before Merlin had arrived.

"This is a tincture of dogwood, though it could use a few more drops of water." Merlin held out the small bowl he'd carried from his mother's hut. "Apply it to the worst of the bruises and it will help with the swelling and pain."

Alane's face flashed with guilt, and he took the bowl appreciatively. "Thank you." He gestured for Merlin to sit. "I don't have much to offer in the way of food or drink. My family truly appreciates what you did for us."

Merlin waved off the praise and the space between his brows creased as he turned a questioning look to the man. "Can I ask why you had nothing to offer for taxes?"

"I gave my usual allotment to my sister's family after I heard about the increase," he shook his head in self-deprivation. "I expected them to be angry with me, but when he struck me down in front of everyone…" he trailed off and glared at the wall.

Merlin began to murmur something supportive, but the man stood abruptly from the table and moved to a corner of the room. He bent down and appeared to dig where a ring of flattened dirt had poked through the old floor. When he stood, he carried a small iron chest tightly in one dirt-covered fist.

He sat again in front of Merlin and unlatched the chest, within which a litter of coins jangled. He held three pennies to Merlin. "I could take the beating, but I won't take your charity. Not when I can walk down the way and see your mother in the same position as I."

Merlin looked at the coins held to him before pushing Alane's hand back. "I'm sure you had a good reason for holding on to this. Instead, watch out for my mother for me when I'm not here, and I'll call it more than even."

Alane looked wounded, his pride taking a hit from the fact that the younger man could actually choose to refuse three whole pennies. He replaced the coins and closed the lid of the chest gently. He obviously still felt indebted to Merlin's help, so he took a deep breath and began to spill a few more secrets. "This is Aila's dowry."

Merlin startled at the implication. Peasants never followed that tradition—it was reserved wholly for the nobility. "Who—?"

"The youngest son of a minor baron." Both men knew this meant the son would at most be nobility only in name. A minor baron being the lowest rank of the nobility, the father would likely have little to pass on to his children beyond a bit of money or land. "Her life may be no different, but there will always be hope that she can have a life other than this serfdom." Alane grasped the chest as if his life depended on it. "And if not hers, than maybe my grandchildren's."

Merlin didn't respond. He found himself with no words for this man. He could understand Alane's risk, and need to risk, but he had also grown up with Aila. He expected she wasn't excited to leave everyone she'd ever known, perhaps forever, to marry a man who'd likely wandered through Ealdor some random afternoon.

"Where is she today?" Merlin asked.

"She's at my sister's helping with the children. They're trying to turn the feed sacks into trousers for the little ones." Alane wiped a weary hand across his brow. "They're growing so quickly."

Merlin nodded and stood. "Perhaps I'll come visit her in the evening then. I want to help my mother sow a part of the fields before I leave."

He let himself out.

 

* * *

 

_Sir Brennis' broken wrist was healing nicely, and it was true the man would be back to archery and sword practice with the rest of the knights shortly._ Gaius exited the Pelham manor with a nod to the butler, and stowed Sir Brennis' used wrappings in his bag. After a good washing, they'd be of great use to any patient in the Lower Town.

Based on today's developments, Gaius had deduced this knight's injuries were somehow connected to Percival. Gaius never had gotten the full story from either man. Regardless, he was sure Percival was in no danger, and so his interest in the small drama quickly waned.

Across the thoroughfare and around the corner stood the entrance to the Morholt residence, his second patient of the day. This was another major noble family in Camelot, and Sir Morholt had been an elder knight in Arthur's army. Unfortunately, the emphasis there was on 'had', as Sir Morholt had died in Morgana's and Helios' joint attack. Now, the old estate was shrouded in mourning-black, and the grounds remained subdued despite the length of time since the patriarch's death.

After entering and the usual pleasantries, a young serving woman led Gaius to the Solar of the late Morholt's wife. Gaius entered the room with a bow, but the thin, hawkish woman hardly noticed. Instead she reclined all in black, staring out at the sunlit grounds below as if they were personally insulting her. "Mistress Vanora," he said to catch her attention.

She angled her body to him as if it took great effort. She made a plaintive sound and held her hand out, to which he ambled closer and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. "Oh, Gaius," she said, "this has been so difficult for me. And after losing my first husband I thought—" She paused dramatically to dab at her eyes.

Gaius studied her act dispassionately. He had long ago noticed the way she glanced furtively at him or others, taking pleasure in the thought she was fooling them. "Perhaps more essence of poppy will help."

"Oh I suppose," she said offhandedly. Gaius retrieved a highly diluted vial from his bag and placed it on a nearby vanity.

"Just a drop or two in your morning tea if the depression is crippling you," Gaius added.

She sighed heavily and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Is anything else bothering you, Mistress?"

"It's just that…oh it's silly." She lapsed into silence, but was obviously waiting a cue from Gaius. He found himself happy that he hadn't brought Merlin along for this visit, as he was sure that boy's tongue would find itself in trouble right about now.

"I only want to help you."

Mistress Vanora swiveled so she faced him. "My husband was a respected knight and member of the court. After his death, the king hasn't come to visit even once." She put on a teary countenance. "Do you think I've angered him?"

She then glanced around for the man everyone knew to be King Arthur's manservant. When she didn't find him, she turned hopeful eyes back to the court physician. "I'll mention it to him when I see him next, Mistress."

"I'd be mortified! Please, that will not be necessary."

"I'll be subtle," Gaius said with a parting bow. "And if I fail, I'll tell Merlin to drop a hint."

"Oh, Gaius, you are a dear." Mistress Vanora stood quickly, smoothing her black gown and stalking towards him with strength she hadn't previously appeared to have. Her eyes were bright and her smile wide and triumphant. She held the door open for him. "Thank you for the potion."

Gaius bowed again and made his own way back outdoors, hardly managing to suppress an eye-roll. In the safety of the bustling streets of Camelot he heaved a huge sigh and shook his head in exasperation.

Well, at least all of that was over with. Still plenty of time in the day, and some spare coin in his pocket. He fancied he'd grab some broth and bread from an inn in the Lower Town and see if any of the folk needed remedies.

 

* * *

 

As he'd promised, Merlin returned to Alane's hut before the evening grew too long. A quick glance around showed him Aila wasn't in the main house, so he trekked around to the back, where a shed for housing animals had been erected.

Within was the young woman, and she was currently bent over spreading feed to the family of ducks they were raising. She wore a simple frock and a white apron tied securely around her thin waist. He stepped through the gate.

"Ai." Merlin smiled and the young woman whirled around, her blonde hair streaking around her. Merlin couldn't help the small flutter in his chest as he saw her full-on; she had grown even more beautiful over the years. Her skin looked luminous, and her eyes a clear light blue like the tiny flowers of the fields. Her pale pink lips quirked upwards as she caught his face, and she stepped quickly to him, arms wide for an embrace.

"Merlin!"

They pulled away quickly because their relationship had always been of friendship, and his eyes zeroed in on her neck where a thin leather cord and river pebble pendant still hung. It made him smile, because it was proof still that she would always love Will.

She caught his glance, and her hand curled around the necklace. Her posture was a mixture of strength and desperation that wasn't lost on Merlin.

He grasped her elbow lightly. "Can we talk?"

She nodded and led them out of the shed. She placed the feed basket on the ground and closed the gate behind them, leaning against the wooden beams so they could watch the sun speckle the clouds in orange as it lowered towards the fields.

They were quiet for a long moment.

"Are you going to go through with it?"

"Yes, I think so. There are not many rational choices otherwise." She sighed, and her head fell back against the gate. After blinking at the sky, she rotated to face Merlin and grew an innocent smile. "Tell me about Camelot."

So he did. He wove her the best of Camelot and mentioned nothing about Morgana or magic or Uther, unless it was to chuckle about the troll. He left her in awe of the shining, towering, white walls of the castle. He told her about the chivalry and heroics of the knights. He even told her about Arthur's dirty socks.

"It sounds so beautiful. Too good to be true."

"It nearly is."

"Perhaps you'll take me one day." As she said so, the brilliance of her smile faded. She nearly returned to the woman of the shed—the one that clenched Will's gift and had hoped for anything but his sacrifice.

"I hope so."

She reached carefully for his shoulder, and when he didn't push her away she smiled a wavering smile. "Maybe you'll take me with you tomorrow."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she distracted him. Her other hand braced her on his other shoulder and she brought herself to her toes, leaning her weight against his body as she pressed her lips to his.

It was a sweet kiss, one he didn't mind returning. Though neither her beauty nor her sorrow could dispel the feeling that his childhood friend was standing just to the side.

"Ai," the hesitance in his voice made her back away, and an embarrassed flush grew on her cheeks. "I'm flattered, I am. I—"

Her eyes lowered, and she interrupted him quickly. "I understand. I couldn't do that to him either." She sighed and leaned against his chest, and he wrapped an arm tentatively around her shoulders. "Did he have magic like the king said?"

"No," Merlin insisted fervently, and then groped for an excuse to explain away the cyclone. He quickly realized he didn't need one, because she was asking for a wholly different reason. "He was a good man. He never lied to you."

"So he really did love me?" She whispered.

He squeezed her as assent, and then spoke so softly she mightn't have heard him had she not been so close. "I'm sorry I didn't save him."

He saw the streak of tears running down her pale cheeks, and she pressed her face closer to his chest. "There was nothing you could do, Merlin." She sniffed and dug her fingers into his tunic. "Right?"

Merlin held her closer and listened to the quiet sounds of her crying as the sun slunk away. He never answered her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
> (1) Sir Brennis is a real character from the series, though he's only mentioned by Gwaine who says Percival broke Brennis' wrist while arm-wrestling at the tavern. He's similar in age to Merlin and Arthur.  
> (2) The Pelham family crest is actually some bird thing. It was weird and I'd already chosen the name, so I changed the crest to a bow and arrow.  
> (3) Mistress Vanora is early forties. She's twice a widow, so I think mistress is a reasonable name. The bad connotation of mistress is more common nowadays I think. In the middle ages I'd say they'd call a woman adultress if it was a noble woman sleeping with another married man.
> 
> **Next time:** Me, Thyself, and I. A brollachan escapes from Uther's long abandoned chambers, and Gwaine helps Merlin take it down.


	4. Me, Thyself, and I

**_The Nones of April (April 1-7)_ **

Cool air blew through the flimsy sleeves of Merlin's tunic, relieving him of the thin sheen of sweat that covered his body. Silence covered the forest like a blanket, the only sounds the crunch of his boots on branches, and the rustle of leaves as small creatures fled from him.

The walk back from Ealdor had taken longer than he had anticipated, and the moon already rose a quarter of the way into the night sky. He had pushed himself despite the dark hour, hurrying to reach the boundaries of Camelot's walls.

The cool breeze meant he was close—wind usually bent around Camelot's walls to dissipate in the woods nearby.

Merlin pointed his eyes to the sky, and he wove through the thinning trees until he broke onto the main road. The tall towers of the castle, their windows glinting from candlelit hallways, immediately stole his attention. In the darkness of the surrounding forest and roads, it was a tower of light.

He would truly never get used to the beauty of Camelot.

 

* * *

 

Arthur woke the next morning exactly on time, and it wasn't due to anyone shouting _Rise and Shine_ at him.

In fact, it was due to Gwen's impeccable work ethic. The woman was up at dawn every morning, and he had a feeling she wouldn't be trained to let him sleep in, unlike Merlin.

Where _was_ that fool? Oh yes, Ealdor. Bother.

"Guinevere, perhaps it is time we got you a maidservant." For the sake of another hour of sleep, _please_.

She ran the brush through her hair once more, and looked at him bashfully through the locks. "I've taken care of myself for years…"

"Let someone help you. There is no shame in it. Besides, I'd feel better knowing there was another around to keep an eye on you."

Her expression froze. "I would not—"

"Not what I meant," Arthur cut in with a chopping motion of his hand. "I just want you to be safe. Morgana is still out there, and we both know how much she resented you becoming queen."

Gwen accepted the reasoning, though she wondered what any servant could do against the witch. She twirled the fine-toothed brush on the vanity. Ironically enough, it had come from the Lady Morgana's bedroom set. A wonder they hadn't burned everything.

"What's wrong, Guinevere?"

She gave him a look that said _Do you really not know?_ "I worked alongside all the potential maidservants in Camelot. I feel guilty when I think of ordering them to clean up after me, knowing I could pick up after myself."

"You're _The Queen._ "

"And last Yule I was a serf."

Arthur huffed, and rubbed at his bleary eyes as he mulled his options. "What are your thoughts on a lady-in-waiting?"

"Whom were you thinking of?"

He hadn't decided on anyone in particular, but now that she asked he ran through the noble woman who would expect the offer and make his life a migraine if he didn't. "Osra?"

Gwen blanched. "She's older than Gaius!"

"Alright then, Lyvieve."

Her face pinched in a way that made her look like she'd swallowed a sour piece of fruit. "Do I have no other choice?"

"Unless you want to deal with a political earthquake if we pick some random knight's wife."

"Can I think about it?"

Arthur nodded. "But close the curtains while you do." And then he flopped back into the pillows.

 

* * *

 

Little Nellie's mother worked under Hook, the head servant, and fussed over stitching and colors and layers of dust _behind_ furniture that no one could even _see_.

But after Ostara, Nellie had arrived at the age where want of income left her legal and able to pick up her own job around Camelot, and because of Mother's connections—but more likely her stern talking—Nellie found herself a linen maid.

She knew all the secrets now. She could smell like a noble any time she wanted!

Nellie waltzed down the hallway, feeling pretty and powerful in her new pink dress with her new job. In fact, just this morning Mattie had taught her how to carry a basket on either hip, and she flaunted her new powers to all passersby.

Then, in her proudest moments, while her head was thrown back and her hair in a neat plait that her mother had set last night, the king and queen rounded the corner. Nellie curtsied in what must have been the most elegant curtsy of the century. The king noticed.

"You there," he said.

Nellie looked up at him, and then quickly averted her eyes to Gwen. She knew Gwen. Not well, but she knew her. The Queen smiled warmly and it laced through and reinforced the confidence Nellie had built up throughout the past week.

"We need my father's old chambers and Solar cleared out." He began to walk away, but called abruptly over his shoulder. "Get Merlin to do it if you can find him."

Nellie nodded at his retreating back, and curtsied again at nothing. She gathered her baskets quickly and hurried to the laundry room so she could spill her story in a bubble of excitement. Mattie said she hadn't seen someone so excited to clean in years.

What Mattie didn't understand was Nellie had already imagined how impressed the king would be at her skill, and would likely praise her in front of the entire court. She'd do another curtsy—she had practiced them and it would pull off perfectly—and the knights and servants and _everyone_ would be awed at her new dress and—

Nellie went off into her own little world as she hurried happily to the late King Uther's chambers. She had to scurry through the Throne Room, but at this hour it lay empty and she passed through unnoticed.

The door to the chambers unlatched easily under her small hands, and it creaked open into a dimly lit, but dust-free room. Hook had done a good job with upkeep.

The room still held the arrangement from when King Uther had fallen ill. Nothing to be tripped over upon the floor, yet littered with tables and chairs and dressers that acted as makeshift hand-rails. The Court Physician's wooden stool still sat in the corner.

The entire room would need redecoration, but that could wait until she'd carted down the unnecessary items from the Solar. She darted up the stairs at the west end of the chambers, and rounded their small spiral into the upper story. Here, larger windows let the light of the day in, and the colors of old jewels and velvets shined bright. The place was littered with the elder queen's—Nellie forgot her name at the moment—objects. Even a wooden, yet breaking at the seams, cradle still resided within an abandoned room. If you considered that lady's death, it likely had never been used.

Nellie shrugged, never having overly concerned her young mind on the affairs of state.

She began with what she knew—linens and clothes. She stripped every piece of fabric in the room, balancing on wardrobes and tables and feeling like quite the gypsy act, until she had piled a heap of cloth in the center of the room. This was bundled downstairs and left in Uther's chambers. Then she hurried to the dressing room, searching the wardrobes and pulling out the old gowns that were too moth-eaten for even her mother to mend.

Finishing with the standing cabinets, she moved to the chests. The few lining the walls taught her to bring a pile of cloth to kneel upon to prevent excessive bruising on her knees, but none prepared her for the last large, heavy, behemoth of a chest. It sat flush against a wall, was decorated in gold plating, and looked like it hadn't been opened in decades.

She fumbled with the latch, her dexterous fingers useless against the years without grease. Yet, with a final heave and a satisfying _pop_ , the lid unhinged, and Nellie peered into its depths—looking for the missing wedding and ball gowns.

At first she saw only darkness, yet it was an odd sort of darkness. It felt like fog. Though in the light of day, what could it possibly be but a sudden dizziness? She reached her hand within, groping beyond her sight for what surely lay beyond.

And then she shrieked.

 

* * *

 

Gwaine cocked his head to the side, his loose brown hair brushing his shoulder. "Did you hear that?"

He and Leon walked down a corridor, making their way to the higher catwalks of the castle. "Are you trying to avoid guard duty again?"

"It's _boring_."

"I will be there," Leon replied, _as if that solved anything_. He turned back forward again and continued at a brisk pace, and Gwaine had to skip to keep up.

He mulled over the scream he had heard, trying to calm the chivalry that wanted to rush off to save whomever made it. Rationally, he knew that a servant dropping a pot and shouting about it was much more likely than whatever he conjured in his mind.

A lady in red interrupted his thoughts, and he paused to give her a short bow as she waved flirtatiously. Leon clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I know, I _know_ —"

"I heard it this time."

Gwaine tore his eyes from the voluptuous woman, immediately serious. _I knew I should have trusted my instincts._ Both men listened intently, and the faint sound came again. Absolutely a young girl's scream.

"This way—" Leon said as Gwaine took off for the throne room.

Gwaine shoved open the large wooden doors and hurried to skirt around the Round Table. No screams reached them now, but the sound of muffled thumping echoed through the cavernous hall. He had been certain it was coming from here. He looked to the two servant's doors recessed into the left wall, then up into the balconies.

Leon caught up to him then, and joined him in the center of the room.

"Where is it coming from?" Gwaine asked, gesturing to the surroundings as the wild thumping continued.

Leon looked about him just as puzzled, and then he pointed up at the balcony above the throne. "From King Uther's Solar. It explains the echo." Leon's face set, and he turned to Gwaine as Captain of the Guard. "Wait here," at Gwaine's inevitable counter he held up a hand. "I check it out first. You follow as the element of surprise."

Gwaine nodded, looking grumpy, and Leon leapt onto the dais before bursting into Uther's chambers. He cleared the room with a glance, then drew his sword and jogged up the stairwell.

The Solar was littered with both female and male clothing, and everything with a door was wide open, leaving many corners hidden from view. The screams had already made Leon nervous, and the amount of hiding places only heightened that.

Though after only a few steps into the room, he saw the child. She was alone, thrashing upon the ground as if ghouls were upon her. He quickly sheathed his sword and gathered her in his arms.

In those few moments, Gwaine had snuck into the room, seen the girl, and sprinted back out yelling, "I'll get Gaius!"

 

* * *

 

A Knight of the Round Table running through the halls was an intimidating sight, and everyone gave him a wide berth.

Except for Merlin, that was. When Gwaine hurtled into the courtyard, the man froze and his blue eyes grew comically wide. At the last moment he put his hands up to hold back the barreling knight, but Gwaine swiveled on the spot, grabbing Merlin's wrist and dragging the man behind him.

"What did I do?!" Merlin asked in a panic.

"Girl frothing at the mouth in Uther's chambers!" Gwaine let go of Merlin and turned towards the East Tower. "Right—I was getting Gaius."

Gwaine moved off and Merlin hurried for the Throne Room. By this time, the commotion had drawn others, and tittering servants stood in clusters, curious, but not so curious as to go into royal chambers without permission.

A few of the servants caught his eye and started to move aside, but a second burst of motion drew their attention. An older woman had stridden into the room, her cheeks red from her obvious hurry, and her hands clenched tightly into the folds of her skirt.

She saw the crowd of people and her breathing picked up, her panic growing as the scene confirmed the rumor. Merlin swiveled to her and grasped her upper arms tightly, trying to keep her up as the woman began to sway on her feet. He raised his voice, "Please everyone, you'll help more if you leave and bring Gaius here!"

A boy stood nearby, and Merlin called to him, "Do you know what peony looks like?" After the boy nodded, Merlin asked him to pick some and bring it.

The servants slowly moved towards exits, more eager to catch a new scene in the drama than listen to him, and Merlin wrapped an arm around the woman to further steady her. He tried to draw her towards the sounds in Uther's room, but her dead weight fought him as she muttered desperately about her daughter.

Then the doors to the throne room swung wide again, and Arthur strode in flanked by Gaius and Gwaine. "Everyone out!"

His yell ran through the crowd like lightning, and their exodus flipped from a trickle to a surge. In the commotion, Arthur's eyes caught Merlin's. It was enough for them both to understand the other's confusion. Arthur's face tightened, and he passed by his friend to open his father's chambers. Merlin helped the woman inside, and then settled her into a chair as Gaius swept by him.

Upon the king's deathbed lay a small girl in a pink dress. Her dark blonde hair lay in a wild array around her head and Leon was holding down her hands as the girl kicked and shrieked. Small streaks of blood on her face and under her fingernails explained his restraint.

At this sight, the mother howled, and Gaius pulled a sleeping draught from within his pouch as he strode for the bed.

"This is not a seizure," Gaius said quickly. "Look, her eyes track the room." He unstoppered the vial. "Help me, Merlin."

Merlin moved to the physician's side, smiling apologetically at the young girl as he worked to open her jaw. Her eyes snapped to him and her body stilled.

Her jaw became slack, and Merlin held it open as Gaius poured in the liquid. She growled something around his fingers, and reflexively swallowed. After Merlin pulled his hand away, her head fell to the side and a dark smile inched across her face. "You," she rasped.

Then her eyes fluttered and she fell asleep.

Arthur was already at his side, drawing him away with a stern expression.

"I have never seen her before," Merlin said quickly.

"If everyone doesn't stop thinking I'm accusing them of something, then I really _am_ going to get suspicious."

"What have you got to be suspicious of _me_ for?" Merlin said mockingly.

Arthur looked at him with squinted eyes. "Innocent, are you? Look me in the face and tell me you weren't at the tavern this morning."

"I—" Merlin stopped his rebuttal and smiled self-deprecatingly. "Alright, so I may have been at the tavern, but I wasn't downing pints or anything."

Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved him away.

Merlin didn't take the abuse seriously, and dropped down to eye-level with the girl's mother. She had started to shake, her eyes never leaving her daughter's now prone form and Gaius' study of her vitals.

"She has been possessed!"

Arthur and Merlin shared a look, and Merlin got the woman to her feet. "Maybe we should get out of here for a bit. Let's get you some water."

"That's not my daughter," she sobbed.

"Gaius is the best in Albion. He will help her. And _we_ can help _him_ by taking a few deep breaths…"

"Something's taken her!" The woman yelled again and then fell to her knees in tears. Merlin threw a helpless look over his shoulder and snagged Gwaine's eye. With a tug of his head, Merlin pulled his friend over.

Gwaine smiled, relieved. "I was feeling useless," he commented, "thanks for noticing." Merlin gave him an odd look, but Gwaine only cracked a smirk.

Together, Merlin and Gwaine pulled the mother to her feet, but sobs continued to rack her body. She was a ragdoll in their arms, and it made Gwaine feel even worse for the woman. He couldn't do much in the way of medicine, but he could help with conditions of the mind. So, Gwaine turned on the charm.

He flicked his hair over his shoulder and flashed a gleaming smile at her. "Did you make this dress? It's gorgeous."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I've never been so attracted to berthing hips."

She continued to shudder and mumble at intervals. Gwaine might as well have admitted to magic for all the listening she was doing. He huffed.

"Any ideas, Merlin?"

"Maybe a friend of hers can snap her out of it. If not, some rest and space from the problem will do her good."

The two men spent time taking her to the kitchens, where water dribbled down her chin, and bread made crumbs in her lap. After that failure they tried fellow servants—though the hook-nosed groundskeeper pushed them away saying they were getting underfoot. They ended draped on benches overlooking the physic gardens.

In desperation, Merlin had even tried to get her to help him pick weeds.

Gwaine patted the woman on the shoulder, trying to offer comfort but largely being rebuffed as she cried into her lap. "Merlin," Gwaine whispered. "I've gotten my quota of feminine tears. High time to trade places."

"I hear you. I'm staying right where I am."

"You're the physician!"

"Assistant!" Merlin argued.

The servant finally stood cradling a handful of greenery. He tucked them carefully into his pocket, trying to leave space to prevent them from being squished. _Hmm. Perhaps they weren't weeds._

The mother's mood shifted for the worse—again—and both Merlin and Gwaine heaved a simultaneous aggravated sigh, then looked at each other guiltily. Suddenly, Merlin's eyes brightened and he pointed over Gwaine's shoulder.

The knight turned, scanning the area. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Empty royal gardens, orchard, pond... no one in the physic garden beside them. No one looking out of windows or trying to signal them from the parapet.

He turned back to Merlin with a raised brow, only to feel the woman slump against his shoulder. Merlin looked inexplicably sheepish.

"Guess she got tired," Merlin said. "Let's take her back. Gaius could use these ingredients."

 

* * *

 

That next day and third morning were spent in the same tedium. The mother wasted away in worry, and the girl woke only to have another sleeping draught shoved down her throat. Gaius worked tirelessly to diagnose her symptoms, but an irreversible brain illness seemed the only possible cause.

Gwaine was eventually pulled back to his duties, and various other servants cleared out Uther's chambers, though now for completely different reasons. Arthur and other knights came by occasionally to offer aide, and Gwen got in trouble for getting grass stains on irreplaceable clothing.

"If I could just have a 'royal' apron—"

"Guinevere!" Arthur raved, "I let you get an apron today, and tomorrow you'll be cooking Merlin breakfast."

"And what is so bad about that?"

Though, as evening neared on that third day, and Gwaine had seen neither head nor tails of Merlin, he finagled an evening route onto a squire and marched his able-bodied self to where his friend was likely slaving away. He'd do something besides be a lady's handkerchief this time.

His grand plans were dashed the moment he walked into the room. He was completely out of his element, and could do little else but watch the little blond girl growl and thrash in the bed. She still wore her pink dress, though now thrown food and traces of blood marred the pretty fabric. The mother had woken, and had curled into the corner while being distractedly hysterical. Gaius and Merlin had been involved in a rapid conversation, though they startled when Gwaine entered.

Merlin's welcoming smile was wide but strained. In his moment of distraction, the girl's small hand clawed upward and fisted in his tunic.

_"You_ ," she said again.

Her teeth had grown yellower in the three days, and her sallow skin had darkened. Despite the hours of sleep, her eyes were red with blood vessels. The girl pointed sharply at her chest.

" _Me."_

She reversed the gesture.

" _Me….You."_ The grin belied an intelligence and plan that was frightening, but largely lost on everyone in the room.

Then the girl drew a finger across her neck. " _Me._ " They all understood that.

Merlin's eyes flicked nervously to Gwaine before connecting with Gaius. The elder physician nodded sharply, granting Merlin some hard-won acceptance. And in that moment, the mother pounced upon her daughter's chest, shaking the young girl by her shoulders.

"Get out of her—get out of her!" She chanted.

The girl rattled like a doll, and her head flopped back as her eyes rolled away into her head. Then with a shriek, her entire body stiffened and a black mass flew from her mouth.

Gwaine had his sword pointed at it before he could register fear.

The darkness pulsed, growing wider. It swiveled and went straight for Merlin, but the man ducked, swiping at it with a palm. A small battle occurred as Merlin stumbled through the room, batting the mass away as it struck again and again.

Gwaine leapt between Merlin and the thing, hefting his sword higher. "Try that against the best swordsman in the five kingdoms and see what happens to you!"

Small, piercing red dots glowed from the center of the darkness. If Gwaine hadn't known better, he'd say it was glaring at him. _Ah, there the fear was. A little late to the party!_

But Gwaine had learned to fight through small fears long ago. So he steadied his stance and swung threateningly for the shadow.

The creature rippled and gave up on its quarry. It spun in the air and focused its strange eyes on Gaius. Merlin shouted angrily and dove underneath Gwaine's arm to stand protectively in front of his mentor. The long line of his body had tensed, and his shoulders were thrown back in either foolhardiness or bravery. 

Gwaine stabbed with his sword, a wave of force pushed him back, and the creature fled. Merlin's hand went out to catch it, but it had already dissipated into the air, running into thin strands and wrapping tightly around the mother's face. In a moment it had slipped through the woman's ears, nose, and mouth, leaving her trembling.

Her mouth fell open and the shaking toppled her onto her daughter's body. The fingers on her hand began to flex and in a burst of movement her hands locked and tore for her eyes.

The woman was stronger than the girl, and in the minutes it took to subdue her and force a draught down her throat, she shoved Gaius harshly into the wall and had managed to kick both Merlin and Gwaine solidly in the stomach.

Gwaine collapsed against the wall and groaned. "What _was_ that? Actually—" he bent down and picked his sword from the ground, "that was definitely an evil spirit." He inspected the metal and then sheathed it. "We need to tell Arthur."

"No—" Merlin stuttered quickly. At Gwaine's raised brow, he expanded. "What's he going to do? Stab it?"

Gwaine looked affronted, but he had learned many lessons in his journeys through Albion. One was to take things as they came, and another was to trust Merlin. "We should keep the king away from this magic."

"Exactly." Merlin turned wide eyes to Gaius, looking as if he were trying to pass a message through them.

Gaius' forehead creased in contemplation, and his light blue eyes studied the young man. Eventually he said slowly, "Perhaps we can draw it out with herbs."

Merlin nodded, relieved.

Gaius continued. "Gwaine, can you fetch some strong smelling herbs from the apothecary?"

Gwaine looked hesitant. "What kinds?"

"Oh, any," Merlin said lightly as he hurried from the room. Gwaine followed after.

"And where are you going?"

"The… library." Merlin's eyes shifted around. "I need to do some… research."

He hurried off and left Gwaine in his wake. Gwaine scratched at his scruffy beard and eyed Merlin's retreating back, wondering if his friend felt all right. Merlin _had_ just been attacked by a floating ball of evil, _and_ he was acting nervous and embarrassed.

Eventually he sighed. Merlin had proven many times that he could handle himself. Well, Arthur may argue against that, but Gwaine had plenty of proof. He shrugged. Once they got rid of this thing, Merlin would get back to normal.

 

* * *

 

Merlin plastered himself into an alcove and waited for a pair of guards to pass by. Even after the coast was clear, he remained and took a few extra deep breaths.

He had used magic _steps_ away from Gwaine. He'd been so preoccupied trying to prevent the creature from possessing Gaius that he had reacted without thinking. By some miracle Gwaine hadn't seen him.

_Lucky_ , he thought to himself, _lucky, lucky, lucky._

He peeled himself off the stone and took another calming breath. He had to let it go. No point in getting worked up over something that had not even happened.

The path to the underground vault, where Camelot stored many magical items from the Purge, was mostly void of guards. Arthur trusted his castleworkers not to come poking around in a place that everyone assumed only caused harm. Arthur also assumed any sorcery sympathizer would reveal themselves long before they made it this deep into the castle. Merlin snorted.

After one last glance down the corridor, Merlin snuck down the dark stairwell into the damp underground room. His eyes flashed and the cage's lock clicked open.

The sound carried in the chamber, and Merlin stilled as he waited for any sign of someone getting suspicious. When everything dulled back to silence, he cracked open the door and shut it behind himself.

In the vault there were elder spellbooks, many of them woven with dark magic. The nature of the creature possessing the females upstairs led him to believe that these books would be far greater help than the standard Book of Monsters. Many artifacts were scattered about the vault, and Merlin made sure to not disturb any of them. 

The bell tower chiming the official setting of the sun seemed like a distant memory by the time Merlin replaced his reference books.

He had found mention of the spirit in a deep green tome from the third kingdom. In the north they called it a Brollachan. It preferred shadows and lonely places, and because of its shapeless form it coveted the shape of others. More importantly, the book had mentioned magical rituals that could entrap it.

He cracked his back and released his magic to let the blue glow of his light dim and disappear.

In a spellbook filled to the brim with darker magic, he found those rituals that could trap the brollachan. In fact, they could entrap _any_ spirit.

Merlin made his careful way back to the common passageways and then headed for Uther's chambers.

He had then gone further and studied possession spells. He had seen ways to forcibly put a spirit in another's body, and ways to temporarily take someone's spirit out. Part of Merlin— the innocent, purer part— recoiled at the thought of performing any of this horrifying magic. However, that part had grown small over the many years in Camelot, and now he would use the knowledge without a flinch if it meant saving lives.

He stepped into Uther's chambers and Gwaine jumped to his feet. "Where have you been? I looked everywhere in the library."

Merlin looked around the room. Gaius had kept Gwaine busy stringing up herbs along the walls and carefully burning them so their cloying scent hung heavy in the room. The mother and daughter slept peacefully side by side in the bed.

"I was researching a few details," he evaded.

He strode to a wall and grabbed a bundle of sage at random. Then he quickly walked over to the bed and placed the small bouquet on the mother's head.

"There. Now everything is perfect."

While facing the sleeping woman, Merlin's eyes flashed and the chamber door shut with a loud _bang_ , followed by a _click_ as he shoved the lock into place.

The ring of metal followed as Gwaine drew his sword. "Merlin, get away from her—"

Merlin's eyes flashed again as he muttered a spell for sleep. Gwaine dropped to the floor in a heap. He spared a moment to look apologetically at his friend while Gaius frowned critically.

"How will you explain that?"

"Evil spirit magic, most likely." He spread a palm over the woman's sleeping figure and removed the barriers on his magic. It coursed through him, strengthening and empowering, washing away the fatigue of the day.

He recalled the guttural words and let them spill from his mouth. The darker magic tasted like rusted metal.

As the spell wove through the room, the candlelight dimmed until the glow of his eyes was the only spot of brightness in the dark. He cut a frightening figure, wreathed as he was in shadows and burning gold.

The brollachan spewed from every orifice in the woman's face, its small red eyes forming out of the growing fog. Merlin's curse ended, and it swirled, perhaps disoriented, trying to focus on Merlin and Gaius in turn.

It remembered Merlin's magic, and the dark mass slipped backwards warily. When it spied Gwaine's sleeping form upon the ground it jolted towards him. Merlin pushed it aside with another wave of force.

"Get behind me," he said to Gaius. Then he raised another palm and spoke, " _Forbærne."_

A ball of fire grew in his hand, and he pushed with his arm, sending it careening for the dark creature. It dodged for the door, aiming for the cracks beneath, but with a wave of Merlin's hand, another wall of force slammed into the fireball. The flame burst and flattened, and Merlin flung it towards the escaping brollachan.

It could not avoid the fire this time, and the magic burned through it. Unable to shriek, all it could do was spasm as fire crawled along its shrinking body.

It dwindled to nothing and Merlin lowered his palm, releasing the magic. The wall of the chambers looked a little singed, but nothing a good scrubbing wouldn't hide. He turned to Gaius. "Well, that's over."

The physician looked a little wide-eyed, but hurried over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. _When was the last time he'd used this kind of magic in front of Gaius?_

"Thank you, Merlin."

"No need for that, Gaius."

A groan sounded, and Merlin's eyes shot for Gwaine on the floor while Gaius turned to his patients.

He was right that it had been Gwaine, and the knight groaned again as he rolled to his back. "What happened?"

"The herbs worked. I guess it saw you as the greatest threat and took you out first."

Gwaine got to his feet and tightened the grip on his sword. "Where did it go?"

"It um… well, um… the sage…" Merlin scrambled and Gwaine tilted his head curiously to the side.

Gaius cut in. "It couldn't live long without a host. It disintegrated."

"Yes, that." Merlin nodded rapidly.

"Hmm," Gwaine said and sheathed his sword. "Then I owe you thanks for protecting me during my nap."

Merlin's wide smile slammed onto his face. Gaius, pleased to see Merlin so happy, made an excuse to let him off for the night. Gwaine didn't need to be told twice, and swept the man under an arm and marched him away.

"How's your head?" Merlin asked, a hint of apology in his voice.

Gwaine knocked on his skull. "This old noggin can take much worse than that."

"You were asleep the entire time?"

Gwaine shrugged, meaning _yes,_ but apparently for Merlin this was not enough. After the third nervous glance in his direction, Gwaine stopped them both. "That's it. Spill." He rounded on his friend and put a finger in his face. "What are you hiding from me?"

Merlin squeaked and his eyes shifted left and right rapidly.

Gwaine sighed mournfully and tugged Merlin along again. "I'm your friend, you know? You don't have to keep secrets from me. I'm not Princess."

Merlin looked regretful but deflected. "Where are you taking me?"

"Tavern. I need a drink after that ordeal," Gwaine grumbled.

His friend tilted back his head and laughed. Then he shook his head, as if tossing aside an errant thought. "I went to the tavern without you. That's the secret."

Gwaine clutched at his heart. "Do you mean to tell me Arthur was _right?_ " He muttered. "Great. What a betrayal." He looked at Merlin accusingly. "Now our next banquet I have to dance with whatever _noble_ girl Arthur picks out. No wonder he was looking so smug."

Merlin snickered, then put a hand over his mouth when Gwaine glared darkly at him. "I wasn't out having some wild night at the Rising Sun. Joel saw me getting into Camelot as he was closing up and let me spend the night." He grinned. "And have the last pint out of the barrel."

This didn't help Gwaine's mood. Merlin nudged him with his shoulder.

"How about, whenever this dance happens, I find a way to spill a jug of water on Arthur's head?"

Gwaine chuckled, and his arm swung round Merlin's shoulders again. "You, Merlin, are a true friend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
> (1) In the story of the brollachan, it could only say "me" or "you".  
> (2) Nellie, her mother, and Hook (the hook-nosed groundskeeper) are all new characters. So is Joel—I don't know who owns the infamous Rising Sun.  
> (3) Solar was generally where the lord/lady's family stayed, where the dressing room was, and the sitting room. I imagine Camelot's looks like a suite, and you get access through the king/queen chambers. The Solar could be on the second level. In the 5th season, we see an archer on the catwalks in the throne room. There are similar catwalks on the side behind the throne. I've decided this is a balcony that you can only get to through the Solar, and it's also why Leon tracked down the echo.  
> (4) The throne room in Camelot is a long wide hall, and there are windows on the right side. I've decided they're on the Eastern side for the best sunlight. Royal chambers were generally offshoot from the throne room or great hall. In the Camelot images, it looks like there are doors behind the thrones, so I think it makes sense for chambers to be there.  
> (5) Peony is a potential herbal remedy for epilepsy. Also might prevent blood clotting and act as an antioxidant.  
> (6) A place where specifically herbs were grown is called a physic garden. Orchards, fish ponds, royal gardens etc. would be elsewhere, maybe nearby.  
> (7) Scotland (in modern terms) is the third kingdom. The modern versions of the other four are Britain, Wales, Ireland, and Norway.  
> (8) Forbærne, of course, is the spell for fire. 
> 
> **Author's Note:**  
>  I don't plan on writing out any long-winded spells here. If everyone is like me, they just glance over the words when reading them anyways.
> 
> As for Gwen, her formality in the opening scene of S5 surprised me. It makes sense that her character would change after three years as queen, but right now I believe she is eager to please, happy to assist with all sorts of 'menial' tasks, and, likely, feeling more kinship with the servants than with other nobles. I want to show Gwen's growth into that queen in this story too. 
> 
> I expect Merlin was late in the morning because he spent the morning cleaning the inn/tavern to make up for a free night and free meal. :)
> 
> **Next time:** Gossip Girls. Merlin and Arthur are just shooting the breeze, and Arthur just barely refrains from shooting him.


	5. Gossip Girls

_The Ides of April (April 8-15)_

"Arthur, you're awake?"

Early, but not too early, in Camelot. The sun had risen high enough to spill through the eastern facing windows and across the desk Arthur slouched at. Littered across it were a quill, inkbottle, and many balled up papers.

"You're working!" Merlin used his fingers to hold back Arthur's eyelids and peer into his eyes, feigning a Gaius inspection.

Arthur batted his hand away with a scowl. "Is that breakfast?" Merlin nodded. "Good, I could use a break."

"What are you doing?"

"Fashioning letters to our allies. It's time to introduce Guinevere."

"That's proactive of you."

"Yes, well, I've learned a few things since knighting Percival."

Merlin cleared up the desk and sat down the tray of food. "Where's Gwen?"

Arthur pointed at the ceiling. "Getting dressed."

Merlin glanced at the steps for the upper level. "That _is_ convenient." He noticed the far wall's usual war-hero tapestry had disappeared, replaced with an oil-based painting of Camelot's castle. Other decorations had changed and the layout maneuvered into a more inviting arrangement— Gwen had been busy. "So how is living in your father's chambers?".

"You mean the _king's_ chambers," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Besides, it was necessary."

Merlin cocked his head to the side.

"I couldn't have you bursting into my chambers with Guinevere in any state of undress."

"You act like that's so much worse than seeing you in any state of undress."

Arthur's face twitched. He had found it funny but used every etiquette lesson under his belt to keep that fact hidden. Instead, he shook his spoon in the air. "I know you want me, Merlin."

Merlin snorted. " _Maybe_ if you lost some weight I'd think about it."

The usual annoyed frowns and cheeky grins changed hands, and Arthur ate a few more bites of this morning's porridge before kicking out another chair from the table.

"Sit," he commanded. "How am I supposed to enjoy this with you hovering over my shoulder?"

When Merlin followed suit, Arthur shoved the fruit bowl at him.

"Eat."

"A feast fit for a king," Merlin said with sarcasm as he picked up a pear and nibbled at it. They ate in silence for a few minutes longer, enjoying the quiet of the morning before the storm of the day.

Eventually Arthur leaned back and yawned, patting his stomach. "Well, get on with it. What's the gossip?"

"Can't I sit here and enjoy this royal pear in peace?"

"You're a girl, Merlin. You're always telling me some inane story."

"Hardly." Merlin stuck his nose in the air. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you and just watch it bite you later."

"And here I was thinking I might get through this morning without having to threaten you."

Merlin harrumphed. "Gaius told _me_ that Mistress Vanora Morholt was hinting at _him_ to tell _me_ to tell _you_ that you have to go visit her or she's going to spread some terrible rumor about how you don't care about the knights."

Arthur groaned. "But I don't want to go see her."

"You have to. Since Sir Morholt died, she gets his seat in the King's Council." Merlin stood and stretched his arms above his head. "I've heard a rumor that she's nearly out of money." He gathered Arthur's trashed papers and put them into the now-empty breakfast bowl.

"She bankrupted the last family she married into after her husband died." Arthur groaned. "If she ruins the Morholt estate then I'm going to be up to my ears in squabbling over who gets that family's seat in court."

Merlin moved over to the bed, pulling back the covers and starting to air out the sheets. "Can you make someone else head of house?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. She's the mistress of Morholt manor until the children get older."

"We can send her George." Merlin cleared his throat and made a proclamation. "It is I, the Royal Chamberlain, come to look down my nose at you whenever you do anything remotely improper."

"That is a sneaky and perfect solution." Arthur waved his hand with a flourish and barked a laugh. "It's got my stamp of approval." He turned in his chair and watched Merlin remove and fold the sheets onto the base of the bed. "George really could keep her in line until the eldest child is of age. I just hope the kid doesn't turn out like the Wyndham boy." Arthur muttered under his breath. "That lily-livered waif has got a seat right in the middle of the council table and I doubt he could even do _your_ job without asking his grandmother for help."

Merlin bent half of the thin feather-filled mattress onto its other side. "Really, Arthur? Did I deserve that?" He began to scrunch the flattened sections, fluffing and spreading the feathers.

"What, you want me to apologize? Then bring me something besides porridge tomorrow."

"If you're still hungry, there's an entire bowl of fruit right _there!_ "

Arthur turned his back on Merlin and placed a fresh sheet of paper in front of him. "Those are for you, Merlin."

"I'm touched, sire."

Arthur dipped his quill in the ink and smirked to himself. "They're more for throwing at you, actually."

Arthur listened to the muffled sounds of Merlin continuing to beat out the mattress. "Prepare yourself for rat stew the rest of this week."

He snickered and it splattered spots of ink onto the paper. Bother. At this rate Gwen would be writing her own introduction. He shrugged and decided to burn more time with Merlin. "Remember how Morgana ate the whole thing?" Arthur started to laugh. "We were going to tell her but she just kept eating and then it was too late. And then she burped and got that weird look on her face—" Arthur was laughing harder now. "And she asked us what was in it and you said—"

"I know what I said," Merlin mustered a grin. When it came to Morgana, he never could find much humor. Arthur had recently taken a new outlook. To him, there was Morgana, and there was the sorceress. Mutually exclusive.

"Hear any rumor of the witch while in Essetir?" Case in point.

Merlin had finished fluffing the mattress and began to fold the fine linen sheets back into place. "No. Nothing since Imbolc, when you got word from Nemeth that she'd been seen by villagers."

Arthur frowned. "Fie. I hate not knowing what she's up to."

"Where do you think she was heading?"

Arthur ran a hand through his blonde hair and moved to the eastern window. "Deorham is just west of Nemeth. Alined covets our lands and has wanted war since my father's reign." He stared down at the training grounds where three new knights were warming up with wooden swords. "But he's too weak to ever fight a war on his own."

"Maybe she's going for Odin. You have to cross through Nemeth to get to Cornwall, and he does hate you for killing his son."

"I thought we had a mutual understanding," Arthur narrowed his eyes, thinking back more honestly on his last encounter with Odin. "But we did part on shaky terms."

Merlin tugged down the hangings so they elegantly surrounded the bed. He passed a critical eye over the frames they hung from, but all looked in order. The light colored wood frame now hanging from the ceiling had likely been built new for Arthur and Gwen. "He may just be biding his time until he has the upper hand."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Arthur sighed. "Perhaps I'll send some spies to see if he is building an army."

Merlin gawked. "We have spies? I didn't know that."

Arthur made a frustrated gesture at the training grounds. "I would send knights, _Mer_ _lin_. Idiot."

He ignored Arthur's taunt. He stood straight and said confidently, "I want to go."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"If Morgana is there, I want to know."

"And what exactly are you going to do if the witch is there?" He said patronizingly.

Merlin pressed his lips together until they flattened into a thin line. Then he said, "Run back to Camelot as fast as I can, and then tell you everything I know."

"Well, I can't argue with that."

Arthur was looking so proud and haughty and prattish standing in the window with his hands clasped behind his back that Merlin had to do it. "You never should argue with me, sire, I'm the brains in this relationship."

Usually this kind of cheek was enough to derail any conversation, but this time Arthur continued to look pensively down on the fields.

"Arthur? Are you all right?"

He turned to Merlin with a confused crease between his eyebrows. The tips of his ears had also reddened—proof that he was hiding embarrassment. "Did I really—"

A grin split Merlin's face, "You even hugged a tree, Arthur. It was glorious."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
> (1) Royal beds in the middle ages would have one or two mattresses of straw or wool, perhaps with rough blankets in between, and then covered with a thinner feather mattress. Feather mattresses should be fluffed daily otherwise they become compact. Classic beds would have a headboard and a frame that hung from the rafters which the bed curtains could hang over.  
> (2) The rat stew is from the first season. A unicorn is killed so there's a food shortage in Camelot and Merlin feeds Arthur rat stew.  
> (3) I tried to explain the map of Albion through the dialogue. There's a map on the Merlin Wikipedia page that I used.  
> (4) Nemeth is where Princess Mithian is from. They are allies with Camelot.  
> (5) Alined is the king of Deorham, one of the five kingdoms (Wales). He has tried to start a war during one of the peace talks.  
> (6) Odin is the king of Cornwall. You'll remember him from the fifth season, though he and Arthur had lots of history throughout the entire show.  
> (7) At the end there, Arthur is referring to the finale of the fourth season, when Merlin bewitched Arthur into a simpleton. I like to pretend Tristan or Isolde mentioned it in passing and Merlin found a way to explain it away. 
> 
> **Author's Note:**
> 
> Fun to write, hopefully a fun little romp to read as well.
> 
> We're going to go to Gawant to see Lord Godwyn, we'll meet some Druids and have another Tournament of Camelot...I am just so excited to see, write, and flesh out all these places and people.
> 
>  **Next time:** Put A Ring On It. Arthur's former betrothed has heard of his marriage, and she sends Camelot a letter.


	6. Put A Ring On It

_The Kalends of May (April 16-30)_

Albion gave Camelot a wonderful spring morning, and Arthur wasted it running around with an axe.

Merlin supposed he should count himself lucky—at least Arthur hadn't needed someone to hold the target. Instead, he leaned over the low wooden fence that bordered the training grounds and watched the knights and squires go about their practice. It was a large green with much space for free battle, though dummies on crosses sat near the stone wall, and stands with hanging bags of dried seed crowded in an open area to Merlin's right.

The walls of the castle bordering the grounds were not high here, and Merlin could clearly see a set of guards leaning over the battlements, whiling away their day by watching the training below. A young man burst from the doors behind the guards, running up to them and pointing at the grass below. There was a brief and animated discussion before the man ran back inside and reappeared moments later out of the base of that battlement.

The door was directly across the field from Merlin, and because of the man's frenzied hopping from one foot to the next, Merlin decided to take pity on him and approach. He wore the green cap commonly worn by runners—Camelot's internal messengers, and though Merlin vaguely recognized him, he'd never directly met him before.

"Merlin, right?"

He nodded.

"There's a messenger from the noble house of Godwyn. He says he's got a letter for the king."

"I'll tell him," Merlin replied breezily. "Where's the messenger now?"

"He's waiting in the courtyard."

Merlin glanced in the direction of the courtyard and then back to Arthur. "He's probably traveled a long way. Why don't you take him to the kitchens for some food—and someone will have to take care of his horse I'd expect—while I get the king out of his armor and into the throne room. That poor man shouldn't have to deal with Arthur smelling like a boar."

This last comment surprised the runner, and his expression twisted comically as he was unsure how to react. Finally he nodded and tore away, heading back through the door to presumably to carry out the tasks Merlin had set him on.

Merlin turned to the field and shouted " _Sire!"_ across the expanse. Arthur finished a few extra hacks and turned to him, wiping his forehead from sweat. He approached.

"You don't have to request permission for bathroom breaks, Merlin."

"Though a break sounds nice, that's not what I'm calling you for. Lord Godwyn has responded to your letter about Gwen. Let's see how the cards fell."

Arthur nodded eagerly and pushed the axe into Merlin's hands. "I'll meet you in my chambers," he said. "Fetch Guinevere."

 

* * *

 

Merlin searched the entire castle in growing frustration for its queen. Finally, he burst into Gaius' chambers to try to convince him to help, only to find Gwen leaning over a book at one of their small tables.

She looked up and smiled brightly.

"A message from Lord Godwyn arrived this morning," he said, "Arthur wants you to be there when we hear it."

"Ah," she said, and stood. She brushed bits of dirt from her skirt nervously. "Shall I head to the throne room?"

"We can go together; I'll have to help Arthur change his clothes." He grinned cheekily.

The two friends moved out into the corridor and began a quick pace to the ground floor.

"What were you reading?" Merlin asked.

"A book on etiquette," Gwen sighed. "It is probably the driest and most ridiculous thing I have ever read, but I don't want to make a terrible mistake and embarrass Arthur."

"I'm sure your instincts are better than whatever rules those old people made up."

She laughed. "Perhaps. But did you know that it's considered very rude for a man to offer their arm or hand to me if I did not initiate contact?" She looked pointedly at the hand she had tucked once again into Merlin's elbow. She smiled. "In fact, this is also very improper."

"Well, then I suppose I should read this silly book."

He grinned and they chatted a bit further about this year's spring and Merlin's growing vegetable garden. He told her about the newer knights that were at training today, though surely Arthur would ramble on about that later.

Finally they reached the throne room and slipped into the king and queen's chamber beyond. Arthur had washed his face and removed most of his armor in the time Merlin was absent, and was standing with his hands on his hips when his servant finally deigned to enter.

Gwen was a welcome distraction, and Arthur focused on her as Merlin scurried behind him to unlatch the shoulder plate.

"—our closest allies," Arthur was saying to her, "and I'm sure he was pleased at the news."

"And our other allies?" Gwen asked nervously. "It has already been so long."

"The other countries _are_ further away," he said, his thin excuse not doing much to dissuade her worries. "And often gifts are sent to new royalty or children. They are likely just preparing."

"Or they are biding their time, waiting to see what others say before they turn on us, Arthur."

"Who's telling you things like that?" He swiveled on Merlin and plucked him in the forehead. "Why are you telling the Queen things like that?"

"I'm just being honest!"

Arthur plucked him again and Merlin rubbed at the spot. Arthur turned back to Guinevere. "It would be preposterous for anyone to be upset about your upbringing. Truly idiotic. Besides, technically you and Elyan have been nobles since I knighted him."

"I doubt they're upset," Gwen frowned. Arthur removed the last bits of armor without Merlin's help and strode for the stairs to the Solar. "They may think you are weak for surrounding yourself with so many former peasants."

"Don't forget about me," Merlin quipped. "Still a peasant."

Arthur turned at the stairwell and fixed them both with a stern expression. His 'king face' Merlin called it. "What I feel for you, Guinevere, and for the knights is not weakness. If they mistake it as such, then they will be in for a surprise."

"No feelings for me?" Merlin piped up again.

"Oh I feel many things about you, _Mer_ lin. Irritation namely." He swung himself up the stairwell while beckoning Gwen to follow. "Now go fetch Lord Godwyn's messenger, and then clean up my armor from the floor."

Merlin muttered a few choice words under his breath, all in good spirits though, and hurriedly picked up Arthur's armor and placed it on the table. He'd deal with it later. Then it was to the kitchens and back into the throne room, where Arthur and Gwen were already waiting in their thrones, resplendent in their crowns and more formal attire.

He supposed presentation was important if the news turned out to be bad.

He ushered in the messenger through the wide double doors, and out into the center of the room. Light spilled across the ground from the tall windows and made the gilded decorations shine. As Godwyn's messenger bowed, Merlin stepped to the side and studied both his friends' faces. They wore perfect regal masks now.

"What brings you to Camelot?" Arthur said.

"Lord Godwyn has a message for you, your majesty." He proffered a scroll still sealed in wax and ribbon.

Merlin stepped forward to receive it, and as he walked to deliver it Arthur stopped him. "Read it for the room, Merlin."

He nodded and cleared his throat, making easy work of the bindings. The scroll was short, and covered in elegant and unnecessarily intricate script.

" _King Arthur and the newly-crowned Queen Guinevere,_

_News of your marriage falls upon glad ears. I, and all the citizens of Gawant, wish you good health and a long life together._

_Please forgive me for a lack of a celebratory gift, for I have a different gift to offer. The Princess Elena has recently become engaged herself, and we are having a feast and dance in her and her betrothed's honor this Beltane. You and your court are our honored guests to enjoy this time with us._

_Please send a response with my messenger, and we will be happy to receive you any time._

_Your trusted ally,_

_Lord Godwyn of Gawant"_

Merlin looked up and saw a wide grin stretching across Arthur's face. Lord Godwyn had been an old friend of Uther, so really, none of them should be surprised or had even worried in the first place.

"Tell Lord Godwyn the queen and I are honored to attend, and to prepare for at most five of our court."

The messenger gave him a small bow and began to retreat from the room.

Arthur added quickly, "Merlin will see to your horse and make sure you have a place to stay tonight in rest."

The messenger bowed again gratefully and waited for Merlin to lead him away.

 

* * *

 

By midafternoon Arthur had the castle in a tizzy trying to prepare for the journey while also scrounging up a suitable wedding present for Princess Elena.

Very sneaky of Godwyn, by the way, to avoid thinking of a gift by tricking Arthur into getting _him_ a present. He wondered if he could fake some other marriage to avoid this problem. Gwaine was looking particularly single right now….

Gwaine saw his calculating look and strode off quickly.

Fie. Well, that hadn't been a good idea regardless. Besides, Gawant had significantly fewer resources than Camelot, so a feast was a nice enough gift when considered relatively. Perhaps he could even find another set of servant ceremonial robes and get Merlin to parade around in them the entire time. Where had those horrid things gone? He imagined Merlin had hid them somewhere. He'd ask if the man ever got back to pick up these bleeding lunch dishes.

At that thought Merlin banged into the room with an idiotic smile plastered onto his face.

"Well?" Arthur said.

"The castle seamstresses will finish in time, provided that—" he cut himself off. "You don't need the details."

"You _are_ learning," Arthur said mockingly. Guinevere gave him a condescending look, so he proceeded more pleasantly. "And Vanora?"

"Ready and waiting."

Now that he and Guinevere would be gone until past Beltane, Arthur could no longer delay his visit to the Morholt's manor, and to Vanora, the self-obsessed recent widow of a trusted knight and Council member. So, he put on his cape, grabbed Guinevere for moral support, and marched himself to her front door. Merlin tagged along as his ever-present shadow.

Before anyone had knocked, the door swung open and a serving girl bowed low before them. "Follow," she said.

She strode away, the king and queen at her heels with Merlin trailing behind. The exterior of the mansion was still draped in mourning black, but the interior had rich foreign tapestries and blue silks hanging upon the stone walls. Even the hallway leading up to the drawing room had a strip of woolen carpet running half its width, which the servant girl ushered the king and queen onto while she tugged Merlin onto the stone half.

Merlin and Arthur's eyes connected, and they couldn't help their cocked eyebrow.

They reached the drawing room as another servant left. Mistress Vanora stood before them, her hand smoothing down her eldest son's hair. "Run along now," she said quickly, beaming a smile. She gave a small bow. "Your majesties."

Gwen inclined her head and Arthur quickly pinched her in the side. "Mistress Vanora, thank you for making time for us on such short notice."

"It wasn't that short," she said brusquely, referring to the long wait between Sir Morholt's death and the present day. A fake smile stretched across her face and she giggled as if that had been meant as a joke. "Come sit. Tea?"

"Please," Guinevere replied respectfully.

The serving girl swept her long black braid over her shoulder and bent over the table, pouring the three cups with confident movements. "Anything else, mistress?"

"I believe tea is enough for now. Please wait outside, Miri."

The girl bobbed her head and her long lashes and dark eyes captured Merlin's as she swept by.

Merlin's mouth quirked as he weighed his options. Arthur's face had that long-suffering look that said, _Don't abandon me here_. He responded, _Don't be such a royal prat then,_ and smoothly bowed and exited the room behind the serving girl.

The girl had skin like a strong tea with a spot of milk. At his exit, she leaned against the wall and smirked proudly, as if she'd won some game with herself. He saw a shade of Morgana in her but shook the thought away.

"I'm Merlin."

"Miri," she replied. She held out a hand for him to shake, and he did so, albeit feeling a bit foolish. He'd never shaken a woman's hand before. The cloth from her sleeve came loose and tumbled against their hands, and so when she drew away she loosely rolled the sleeve back up. Her entire dress was too large for her, he noticed now, and likely had been a hand-me-down.

"When did you begin here?"

"Recently," she rolled her eyes at the closed door behind them. "The mistress is so full of herself that other maid-servants don't last long for want of a sharp knife."

"I have noticed she likes to brag."

"Brag? She's always going on about this tapestry that Morholt got her from this land, and this painting and this feather…" she scoffed. "I'm the most exotic thing she's got, and I grew up in Camelot."

"Can I ask what…?" Merlin trailed off.

"Gypsy," she said matter-of-factly. "My parents and family traveled Albion until Uther's purge. Then it was too dangerous for unknown travelers, because in those days, everyone was being accused." Her words had sounded spiteful at the end, and she caught herself for the first time the entire conversation, and looked to Merlin with a hint of trepidation.

He chose his words carefully when it came to this subject, as always. He didn't want to bandy about his true feelings on magic. "Even Arthur agrees the purge wasn't handled ideally."

 

* * *

 

"The battle with Helios was not handled ideally," Arthur unknowingly parroted. "We lost many good men because we were surprised. Sir Morholt was a great knight, and I am very sorry to have lost him."

Mistress Vanora sniffled and wiped a stray tear from her eye. She then reached into the bosom of her blue gown and retrieved a dyed chicken feather. "He brought this for me from a distant land. He said they call them peacock feathers."

_Looks like something you buy off of a peddler's cart of trinkets, if you ask me._

"I feel like, without him, I am trapped here." She continued bemoaning her fate. "This is my only remaining connection to the lands outside Camelot."

Arthur had no response to this bellyaching. He looked to Guinevere— always his better half. She looked perplexed, but her eyes had softened in kindness. "We are heading to Gawant in just a few days. If you—"

_No, Guinevere, no!  
_

"Yes!" Mistress Vanora said brightly, all trace of mourning forgotten. "I would love to accompany you. I hear there will be a dance and a feast for the princess. There will be many other nobles there, yes?"

There was one long, loud groan going on in Arthur's head. Guinevere looked to Arthur for affirmation, but after seeing no sane response forthcoming, she nodded.

"Wonderful," Mistress Vanora said. "I am so honored to be invited to travel with the court."

Arthur stood and pulled Guinevere to her feet. "I'm glad," he said with a tight smile. "Guinevere and I shall leave you to your preparations then. There is a lot to pack in only a few short days."

"Of course," Vanora bowed deeply and sped to the door.

 

* * *

 

Outside, Merlin and Miri had been well occupied giggling about their masters. " _You did not call him that to his face!"_

Merlin chuckled. "At first he'd throw me in the stocks every week for it, but now he's used to it."

She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered into his ear, "She's always flapping her arms when she's upset," she giggled, "So I call her My Dame Oiselle. It means the Old Bird in the old language, and she has no idea." She rocked back on her heels and laughed under her breath.

"Aucelle," Merlin corrected. "Aucelle is the word for bird. You read old texts?"

"No!" She laughed at him. "I don't read anything. I can't. Besides, reading is for stuffy old men. People our age should be living." She tugged at his ears. "Your ears are cute."

"Miri!" The door swung open and the gypsy girl yanked her arms behind her back quickly. Arthur gave him a glare and Merlin did his best to school his amused expression. "Please escort the king and queen out, and then return to my chambers."

"Yes, my dame _aucelle_." Miri bowed and then swiveled to lead them out, passing a secret wink to Merlin when she caught his eye.

Well, perhaps it hadn't been so secret, because Gwen caught the look. She turned to Mistress Vanora. "Please bring Miri along with you. I could use the assistance of a maid-servant while in Gawant."

Mistress Vanora bowed deeply. "Of course, my queen."

Arthur brushed by, disgusted with them both. When they reached the main street he led them to an alleyway between homes and rounded on them.

"Guinevere!" He threw his hands in the air. "How could you invite her!?"

"Oh, what's the problem with it, Arthur?" Gwen huffed, and absently she picked her skirts from the ground to avoid the dirt. "She put so much effort into getting invited, and what harm does it really do?"

Arthur ignored her and pointed his anger at Merlin. "And you! You were just flirting in the hallway with a maid! You're supposed to be there to prevent things like this from happening!"

Merlin focused on the wrong thing. "I wasn't flirting!"

"Merlin's not here to help me read your mind!" Gwen shouted, her cheeks turning pink as she scolded Arthur. "I was fully aware—"

"No!" Arthur interjected angrily, "Now we _have_ to bring Lady Lyvieve too, otherwise everyone will be up in arms about favoritism—"

"Again, what is the huge problem here? They annoy you? Arthur," Gwen scowled and her chest heaved as she took a deep breath, "bringing Mistress Vanora, and I suppose Lady Lyvieve, is a good thing. They'll be so busy talking about the banquet that they'll stop complaining about _you_."

"I told you that you weren't the cranial half—"

"Shut _up_ , Merlin."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Footnotes:**
> 
> (1) Lord Godwyn and Princess Elena of Gawant are canon characters. I explained their history briefly in this chapter and will explain the rest in the next, so I won't need to reference anything about their episode here.
> 
> (2) Miri is actually a gypsy name.
> 
> (3) My Dame Oiselle(French)/Aucelle(Latin) was the original form of mademoiselle. Not really meant the same way here, but it certainly helps with pronunciation. When I found out, I thought it was so interesting that I wanted to steal it in some way.
> 
>  
> 
> **Author's Note:**
> 
> I keep giving Merlin these sweet, pretty girls who show him some interest, like Gwen in the first series. I think the Knights expect him to court these girls, but we know Merlin never would or could. His life is just so different from theirs, and it's different in a way that cannot be explained. These small flirtations are just for my amusement. 
> 
> Also, I decided Gwen's firey personality needed to come out, she was being far too coy and nice.
> 
> Next time: Lack of Study in Scarlet. The court finally begins their journey to the south, and Gwaine's smart mouth is unfortunately not left behind.


	7. A Lack of Study in Scarlet

_The Kalends of May (April 16-30)_

The tolling of the dawn bell echoed loudly through the stones of the castle and vibrated through his teeth. Gwaine stuffed his head further into his pillow and went back to sleep.

Morning tried again. This time, what woke him was the bustle of other knights actually following the rules. The clink of armor and the chatter of voices filled the space as the barracks came to life.

Gwaine rolled out of bed— his eyes still welded shut— and dropped his feet right into his boots. He pulled his old grey tunic over his head and felt around for his uniform. When he didn't find it, he blearily opened his eyes and found Percival grinning at him.

He turned back to his search and found the tunic a few inches to the left of his hand. He grabbed it and yanked it on.

"What are you so chipper about this morning?"

"I'm eager to be on the road."

After slipping the curtain of chainlinks over his chest, he began to latch his belt so it looked less like a dress. "I used to get antsy sticking around in Camelot for so long, too. But there's always something crazy going on here, so I keep amused." He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed at his teeth with it. "Got any food?"

Percival shook his head.

"Ah, well, nobody's perfect."

He traipsed outside and Percival followed a moment after carrying both of their cloaks. "You forgot this," he said humorously, tossing it onto Gwaine's head.

Gwaine patted the sword at his side. "At least I didn't forget this, then what kind of Knight would I be?" He stepped to the side to leave room for other exiting men as he fixed the cloak on his shoulders.

He and Percival had been some of the first 'commoners' to be knighted by Arthur, but they certainly hadn't been his last. As their ranks grew, Arthur had been forced to redesign an old supply room into a barracks. Home now was a wooden bed, straw mat, good blankets (he couldn't complain about those), and a personal cabinet.

As he finished the last clasp on the cloak, he spread his arms to the side. "How do I look?"

"Much too genteel."

Gwaine stuck his hands in his hair and shook it wildly. "How's that?"

Percival laughed and moved on ahead.

On their way to grab a bite from the kitchens, the two friends passed Merlin streaking by with a breakfast tray, and again with a red dress when they left the castle after. Even when they had reached the stables, Merlin was already outside finishing the last latches on a set of horses. He thrust the reigns into their hands. "Will you pick up Lady Lyvieve and Mistress Vanora? They'll likely have lots of bags to carry and Percival is looking particularly sleeveless today."

"Of course." Gwaine proffered an apple. "I got this for you."

"Already had morning slop with Gaius," he grinned. "I'm going to check over Arthur and Gwen's packs again and ready their horses. Save it for later."

"Your loss."

Merlin moved back off for the castle, and he and Percival swung into their saddles. Gwaine sat on Merlin's usual horse, and Percival was on a dappled grey youth. It pawed its legs upon the dirt, eager to set off.

However, even as Percival flicked the reigns, there was no brisk trot to follow. Both horses were just finding out that they had been hitched to the royal carriage for the first time in their life, and it was about to be a long, slow journey south.

They trundled up to Lady Lyvieve's first. The Savile family manor wasn't as grossly large as the other prominent noble families, but it had its own luxuries. The patriarch was a long-standing member of Uther's court and council, and the favor had obviously done them well. But it was his niece that made him the talk of the town.

The infamous Lady Lyvieve exited the family house now, bedecked in Camelot scarlet and with her hair in resplendent curls atop her head. With eyes darkened with kohl she met the two Round Table knights with knuckles held out for a kiss.

Gwaine snorted. After jumping off his horse, he deliberately patted her on the shoulder as he breezed by. "Where are your bags, lady?"

Her painted red lips quirked upwards. "I've seen you before. Sir Gwaine, remind me how we met?"

Gwaine nearly rolled his eyes. Nobles disgusted him in general with their inflated heads and ratlike personality, but the most infuriating were the ones who liked to play games. The courtiers always liked to play games. "I expect we passed at the royal wedding." 

"We must have danced."

"Unlikely, I don't dance."

"Oh, I wouldn't forget a face."

"I would. I was quite sloshed that night."

Her brow twitched— good, he was getting to her. "Lyvieve, though my close friends call me Liv. Pleased to make your sober acquaintance."

She offered out her hand again and he internally groaned with distaste. "Pleasure, truly. Now where did you say your bags were?"

She turned sharply, proud nose held high in the air. "Inside."

 

* * *

 

At midday the clouds began to clump together, and what had been blue skies became a solid grey overcast sheet. The air had that metallic and heavy flavor that preceded a downpour, and Gwaine repeatedly caught Merlin with his head thrown back and tongue lolling out, claiming to catch stray raindrops.

Unsurprisingly, the rain did begin before long, and Arthur held up a hand to call the knights together. Gwaine trotted his horse forward and followed his king under a set of branches. Arthur spread a precious map of Camelot out between them, hiding it from raindrops. Tracing these often took the scribes weeks at least. Over Arthur's shoulder, Merlin was reattaching the queen's horse to the second harness as Gwen joined the other ladies within the carriage.

"It will be slow going for the carriage wheels now that the rain has started." Arthur traced a few paths with his finger before settling on a westward trail. "If we detour now, we can make this village before evening."

"I can go ahead and warn them that the queen  _and_ the princess will be surprising them."

Arthur gave Gwaine a withering look. "Just for that, Leon will go ahead with Elyan. You will be pushing the carriage through every patch of muck."

And spirits, did the Fates favor Arthur. Hours later he had mud to his knees, crusted to his elbows, and splattered across his face. He felt no need to wipe it away, this was just his life now. The dirt road turned into a churned pit underneath the heavy wooden wheels, he felt damp and musty underneath his armor, and his shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin. "How much further?"

Arthur answered, "Just past these fields!"

Gwaine grumbled behind the carriage. Though, they were closer than Arthur let on, because soon after, groups of children had scampered out to meet them. A toothless babe ran out to smooth his small hands over Gwaine's infamous red cloak, then ran shrieking with laughter back to his siblings.

Leon met them shortly after and immediately launched into his report. "The local innkeeper has provided three rooms for us. He offered to slaughter his pig as a meal but I refused."

"Ace thinking, Sir Leon," Gwaine quipped. "That's what I want to hear when I'm hungry enough to eat a boar myself."

"His only is a sow, pregnant again, and it would truly have been wasteful to kill it. There will be no meat tonight I'm afraid."

Arthur nodded quickly and bade him continue.

"I have compensated him as you requested."

"And what of Elyan?"

"He is tracking down a blacksmith for a barrel of sand."

At this news Merlin gave a lackluster cheer.

Any water always promised a long night of drying and polishing to prevent the Round Table of Rusted Buckets. Sand would make the entire process much easier, and Gwaine applauded Elyan for his ingenuity, however a single barrel also meant most of the work would get shafted onto a single individual, likely Merlin. Gwaine sent his friend a commiserating glance promising repayment of some kind.

The dreary day didn't leave Arthur feeling so generous. He turned his horse all the way round and shouted to Merlin. "Complaining again? What do you think I pay you for?"

 

* * *

 

The late afternoon and twilight hours passed quickly. After taking care of the horses and everyone's stomachs, they separated for their rooms. Leon had taken first watch, and Arthur and Gwen had borrowed the innkeeper's chambers. _The man will be at the local tavern,_ Gwaine thought jealously, _to gamble away his new pocketful of coin._

Grey days led to black nights, and the three knights and Merlin worked by the light of torches and candles. Cross-legged in a loose semi-circle around Merlin, they applied whetstones, cloths, and wire brushes to their assortment of weapons. "Someone tell us a tale before I fall asleep on my sword," he broke in.

"I expect that would put you more on the side of dead in the phrase 'dead asleep'," Elyan replied primly.

"Merlin," Percival asked, "why don't you tell us about Princess Elena and Lord Godwyn. None of us have met them."

After Elyan's serious nod of agreement, Gwaine made a face. "The both of you are being much too productive for an hour we should all be two pints deep into."

Merlin, currently up to his elbows in the barrel of sand, grinned. "Their time in Camelot is actually a great story. Quite salacious."

Gwaine thrust his sword to the side and propped his chin up onto his knees in a parody of an excited child. It drew laughs from the others. "Go on."

Merlin lifted Arthur's chainmail from the barrel and inspected it. Distractedly he added, "In fact, Arthur doesn't even know the half of it."

"This just keeps getting better!" Gwaine crowed.

Merlin set the chainmail to the side, and a short but silent conversation followed as he attempted to continue with Percival's. The giant didn't accept Merlin waving him off and instead took up Arthur's gauntlets as recompense. Not to be outdone, Gwaine set to work on the breastplate.

"Well hurry up, Merlin, don't be a tease."

His friend laughed, and he now obviously turned the story about in his mind. Gwaine waited in giddy anticipation— Merlin did not generally spill his secrets. And yes, Gwaine knew there were secrets. He wasn't that oblivious.

Finally, Merlin began. "I call this one," a cryptic smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "The Changeling."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:
> 
> (1) People cleaned their teeth with herbs, rosemary ash and/or handkerchiefs. Welcome to my Google-ing.
> 
> (2) Yes I know Gwaine's technically a noble, but I think he identifies as a commoner.
> 
> (3) Old royal carriages were four-wheeled wagons typically drawn by two horses. Later renditions could be pulled by four. Older designs had the coach resting on the axles, making for a bumpy ride, and other designs hung it from chains which made for a much smoother ride.
> 
> (4) To prevent rust, chainmail was often cleaned in sand and polished with oil.
> 
> (5) Liv, Lyvieve Savile, niece to Lord Savile who is on the Council. Both are new characters.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> I made up this idea of the barracks for commoner knights. Percival and Gwaine were good friends canonically, and this explains it. Also, in my headcanon, Elyan lives at the Blacksmith hut, and Leon has a noble's house.
> 
> Had to introduce Liv. Title is a play on Conan Doyle's "A Study in Scarlet", and Liv is Ms. Scarlet personified. Since she's sort of flirting with Gwaine, I want to bring up romance. Merlin will have a romance. I just haven't decided which canon character he's going to end up with yet, if he ends up with anyone. I'm going to have fun with him though, that's definitely set in stone.
> 
> Also, I fully intended to get to Gawant this chapter, but we didn't make it. Merlin had to tell a story, and now I have to write it!
> 
> Next time: The Changeling in B Minor. Merlin tells the story of when Princess Elena first came to Camelot... well, most of it.


	8. The Changeling in B Minor

_The Kalends of May (April 16-30)_

It started like this… well first you have to understand that Uther once married a troll… ah, no Gwaine, that's a story for another time. It's funnier when you see Arthur's face.

Anyways, Uther said, "That Princess Elena, she sure is elegant."

No, wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

It's my story! I'll tell it how I want.

So it actually started like this. We spent a week running around in the woods hunting rabbits and fowl, then a new kid in the kitchens vomited all over it so we went out again. And this time, I promise you, Arthur _rolled_ around in the dirt while strangling a hog. And then he told me he still needed his armor and clothes laundered by the next morning because Lord Godwyn was coming in, and Arthur _really_ was a giant prat in those days….

Maybe I'm getting behind myself… I'll skip ahead… oh _ha ha_ , guys.

On the morning of their arrival Uther wanted Arthur to wait in the throne room. So we're all standing on the dais and Uther is talking about how beautiful and smart and elegant and strategic—yes he slips that in there—Princess Elena is, and Arthur is just barely catching on that Uther has an ulterior motive.

I do mean barely. He said, "Godwyn thinks I'm beautiful?" Uther had to spell it out.

And then, of course, the Princess Elena walked in and fell flat on her face.

Lord Godwyn and Uther were all over each other, and Arthur just stood there pale as a sheet. She was kind of cute, but a total and complete mess. Wildest looking princess I'd ever seen. She stood in the middle of the throne room and adjusted her undergarments as if it were any other day.

That's filthy, Percival. Didn't expect that coming from you.

No… hah! Absolutely not. That's not very knightly, guys.

Arthur got us excused from the room after saying something princely. Then he said "Go get the bags, Merlin, or were you planning on gawking at the princess all day? Rah rah rah, I'm the prince. Go away so I can complain to Gwen."

He literally spent the rest of the day in that exact mood. Ordering people around and then sighing mournfully like it was so sad that he couldn't have everything that he wanted. Honestly, he was such a clotpole, I can't believe I've forgotten. He even threw a pillow at me after I tried to cheer him up.

Despite the burping and sneezing in Arthur's face, and picking food out of her clothes during feasts, Elena really wasn't so bad. Her mother died when she was young, just like Arthur, and she took to riding in an attempt to get closer to her in spirit. She completely beat Arthur in a horse race, by the way. And it's that trail he rides all the time—the one to the clearing where he has girly picnics with Gwen?

I… I don't know that! I don't want to know that. Ugh. You want to know that?

No, I don't follow him _all_ the time.

Lord Godwyn? I actually didn't see him much. Usually I was around Elena and Arthur, and Arthur was meant to keep her company during the meetings.

Though, I specifically remember wondering how he could be a friend to Uther. They had such different personalities. Lord Godwyn loved his daughter despite her wildness. He let her have her freedom.

Whereas Uther was completely the opposite. I got the impression Arthur had no choice but to marry her.

Perhaps I'm being unfair. But when I think of _Uther_ ….

What? Sorry, I drifted off. No, there's more to it than that. There's still the half of the story that I was busy with.

Actually, let me preface with this: If you talk to anyone else about what happened to Grunhilda—that's Elena's nanny—they think she ran away. For all intents and purposes, that's all any of you know.

Oh, I'm being dramatic am I? How do _you_ think Elena would take it if she found out Grunhilda was dead? And not only dead, but turned into a _pile of faerie dust?_

She was a pixie. I caught her catching flies with her own giant, purple frog tongue. Later on I'd stalked her enough to find out she'd implanted a Sidhe in Elena. 

Er… yes I… well Sidhe is the proper name for these types of faeries.

They planned on having Elena marry Arthur and then let the Sidhe escape and rule Camelot. They can live for a thousand years, so a few decades of waiting for their plan….

Ahem… uhm… Gaius said so. He's got a book on it.

Why didn't I go running to Arthur? He had enough on his plate, and as Gaius said, "Merlin, Lord Godwyn is one of Uther's dearest friends. Accusing him of having a Sidhe for a daughter and a pixie for a nurse is not something that can be taken lightly."

So, of course, it was left to me to gather ingredients—

What do you mean, 'For what'? For _a potion_. Yes, it was obvious. Didn't I just say we were looking through Gaius' books?

The worst was a stamen from a Dropwort flower. It's more rare than a four-leaf clover. The same day Arthur proposed, I had marched for hours through a bog, back and forth, digging around with my hands on the marsh floor, mud nearly up to my chin. Honestly, it must have been uphill the entire time. The things I do for Camelot.

And I got in huge trouble that day! The castle was in an uproar over the impeding nuptials, as Uther demanded an even bigger feast, a new wedding gown to be stitched together in a single day, and Arthur's ceremonial robes prepared….

And throughout it all, I was conspicuously absent while "gathering herbs" for Gaius.

Oddly enough, that was one of the first times I'd said that and it had been the truth.

Don't even… I _do_ pick herbs for Gaius… I _am_ picking herbs when I say that now, this was years ago—

You are all insufferable. Fine, follow me next time. You can hold the satchel. Besides, I'm no good at lying. I get sweaty and nervous and I start babbling.

Where was I? Oh, right. So after I got the stamen to Gaius he was able to finish the potion that evening, but I was so busy preparing for the wedding with the other servants that I only caught a few glimpses of Arthur and didn't even see Elena. That night, I fell asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. Spying and lying is exhausting work, by the way. Then… ah… well… nothing much happened.

But the next morning was the wedding so we had to be up at dawn to make the potion—

What? Did I?

I'm not confused….

I didn't lose the first draft! It broke—

Totally not my fault. The circumstances were completely outside of my control! All right, maybe it was partially my fault. Only a tiny bit, though. I am _not_ a klutz, Gwaine….

Can we move past this? I'm getting to the best part.

So we barely have any time left before the wedding. I'm sure Arthur was infuriated I hadn't helped him get dressed, but Gaius and I were deep into our plan making. We knew Grunhilda was helping Elena into her wedding gown; so sneaking her the potion was out of the question. But… and this is really fantastic… Grunhilda had this _massive_ crush on Gaius. She kept trying to flirt with him, get him alone, make sweet old people love with him. 

"Claim her loins", Gwaine, really? Well I suppose you're the expert. I expect that's exactly what he told Grunhilda to get her to follow him into the vaults.

I hid in a corner, and she arrived singing sonnets and dancing down the stairs. Gaius wore a fancy belt. If he ever does that again, please help me stop him.

Then she tried to kiss him. I jumped out and locked her in a cell, but not fast enough to stop her from licking him right across the face. She still had that giant... gross purple frog tongue. It had warts. And the slime trail that it left... urgh.

I... think I promised not to ever tell that part. Oops. 

Well, we ran off for Elena's chambers then—we had to hope she hadn't left for the ceremony. The castle was quiet and Uther had already begun his opening speech—and… well uhm… she was there. And I poured the potion down her throat.

It knocked her right out while it worked its magic. Er—bad choice of words.

When she woke back up, she asked us where Grunhilda was and I said, "I'll look into it."

Of course she never saw her again.

And that's it! Elena doesn't trust me much on account of attacking her with a draught, but she thinks Gaius is the best physician in Albion on account of a potion curing her of her inelegance. 

I tell you all of that and you're concerned about Arthur? You know what happened at the wedding. Arthur called it off to marry for love—as he should have realized from the beginning. 

The pixie dust? I think I put it with the other artifacts… oh the Grunhilda dust? I did say she turned to dust didn't I?

She just… turned to dust after Elena drank the potion.

No, that doesn't make much sense does it? But do the specifics really matter? I mean, all this magic stuff, who has any idea what is going on with _that_? It was just a bunch of blue people with wings and purple frog tongues and zap! Bam! I'm melting! I don't even understand it myself—

I am _not_ babbling!

Oh all right, but I barely remember it. Grunhilda escaped the vaults somehow, and caught up to Gaius and I in the hallway. I had this… stick… which I grabbed from one of the hall decorations, and I… hit her on the head with it.

Yes, that's what happened.

Then I had a few seconds to pour the potion down Elena's throat—Gaius was coddling her—and the Sidhe burst out and Grunhilda burst in and they blasted magic and I ducked and poof! They were dust.

Now _that_ is a good explanation—

uh, I mean ending to the story.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:
> 
> (1) Sidhe is pronounced Shee.
> 
> (2) Merlin was attacked by the Sidhe Elder at night, blasted him with his Sidhe staff, but unfortunately the potion was broken in the fight.
> 
> (3) After Grunhilda escaped, Merlin fought her in the hallway with the staff and blasted her to dust, then the Sidhe shortly after.
> 
> (4) Many other things go on with Arthur/Gwen/Uther/Morgana but Merlin didn't see any of it.
> 
> (5) Merlin, of course, took a lot of liberties with the dialogue.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> When I started writing the chapter like this, I really loved it. Then I started to hate it. Of the feedback I've gotten on it, it's an even split of love and hate. I'm pleased with that. I tried something, it was interesting, and I'll likely never do it again but I'm still fond of the attempt. Tell me how you feel. 
> 
> I did have a lot of fun writing Merlin tie himself into knots.
> 
> Anyways, next time they are definitely getting to Gawant, and it's Beltane and the first half of the spring finale. 
> 
> Next time: Damsels in Disguise. It's Gwen's side of the story as a standard night of revelry turns into something quite different…


End file.
